la douleur exquise
by Remember
Summary: Afina has no recollection of who she is or how she ended up in the Carpathian mountains. All she knows is that she's a vampire and her husband has just died at her hands. Alone and without identity, a notorious vampire takes her under his wing, as she helps him seek revenge for his own murder. But does he have ulterior motives? Can she trust him? Can he trust her? Drac/OC - R
1. Conversion

**Written on a whim - not exactly sure where this is going; only the muse knows. I suppose I'm just along for the ride like the rest of you. Also, as a word of caution, I am _extremely_ rusty when it comes to writing, so I apologize in advance if the first couple of chapters are a bit on the rough side. They'll pick up/improve as I exercise this otherwise atrophied muscle, I promise.  
**

**Rated M for violence and gore, thus far.**

******Cover image for this story is from Serenity's _War of Ages_ album. I did make some changes to the image - like the filtering and contrast tweaks. _No copyright infringement intended_.  
**

* * *

**Chapter 1: Conversion**

The night sky was clear of clouds and moon, the air frigid. The scene seemed painted in black and white, from the trees of the forest, dark pines and firs with the occasional blackwood, to the towering peaks that seemed to scrape the sky, all blanketed in three months' worth of snow. A figure stood in the snow, barefooted, in what had once been a dress, but was now tattered and torn, with enormous gash marks trailing along the back and front, the fabric stained in blood which had turned dark from prolonged exposure to oxygen.

The flesh beneath the rags was pale and flawless, as if nothing had broken her skin from the violence that appeared in her dress. Her hair was a dark russet color, its curls and spirals resembling the snakes that would have been found on the head of a gorgon. No breath passed her lips, no heart beat against its cage in her chest. Everything about her was lifeless and still – as still as the forest.

Until her eyes opened in one swift sweep at the sound of movement in the wood just north of her. Her eyes glowed an electrified blue, casting an eerie, unnatural light in the darkness. She stood there, motionless, unaware of the cold that should have frozen her flesh. All that consumed her was the silence and the anticipation that came with the waiting of another sound.

Her patience paid off as the sound of a boot crunching in the snow caught her ear – a noise that would have been missed by any man or animal.

But not her.

With the sound of another step, she moved, silent in the night, her feet barely sinking into the snow as she ran, as though she weighed no more than a leaf on the wind. She ran such a great distance in so short a time that the footsteps were starting to sound like thunder in her ears. It was the first thing she had noticed and it distracted her momentarily; that moment of distraction had broken her concentration and suddenly she felt a sharp sting on her face as she flew past a set of low-hanging branches. She halted almost immediately and grasped her cheek out of what felt like habit, but the pain had ceased as quickly as it had occurred. There was no mark on her face, but when she looked at her hand, she could see the blood on her fingers.

Was the blood hers? How had she healed so quickly?

Before she could give even a moment's consideration to the thought, she heard a rapid beating, like drums, in sets of twos, a steady, maddening rhythm that seemed to cast a spell on her like a siren's call. As if she had no will of her own, she was running again, the trees flying past her in a dark blur, like smeared paint on a canvas, as the beating grew louder and louder in her head. It was both beautiful and torturous. She was consumed with a single thought - had to stop it… had to stop the drums.

She stopped suddenly on the edge of a clearing where the beat seemed to be coming from. In the center of the clearing stood a solitary figure, tied to what was left of a dead birch tree. His hands were fastened behind him on the other side of the trunk, as were his feet.

There was something horribly familiar about his face, but that incessant beating that was coming from him seemed to keep her from figuring out why. The more she struggled to think, the more her head ached. She let out a small whine of frustration and the captive stranger suddenly became aware of her presence.

"Who's there?" he called out hesitantly.

She moved cautiously out of the shadows and into the clearing, confused by his expression of recognition as he looked at her.

"Afina! Thank God, you're alive," the stranger called out, his voice choking with emotion. "Quickly, untie me before he gets back."

She stood there, positively motionless, unmoved by his words, only consumed by the beating that appeared to be coming from his chest.

_His heart,_ something in her seemed to say. Yes. The heart – this was familiar.

"Afina!"

She instinctively looked up into his eyes and something else familiar stirred within her. She had a bond with this man. She couldn't explain it, but she felt it, and that name he was calling her – that was _her_ name. Wasn't it?

"Afina, please, we don't have much time."

Afina could suddenly feel the cold, a darkness she couldn't explain surrounding this clearing, growing ever nearer, closing in on her and this stranger that she felt this unexplainable connection toward. Her gut told her they didn't have much time and so she moved quickly toward him and began to work at the knots in the rope.

"I was so worried he had gotten to you," the stranger started to say, struggling against his constraints. "I should have listened to you. We should never have come here. We should have stayed in the city and away from these cursed mountains."

Within moments, she had freed him and the moment he had his hands again, he was in front of her in two brisk steps. He took her face in both of his hands and kissed her soundly. If the action didn't take her by surprise, his sense of earnestness and familiarity certainly did and she pushed him away roughly, and with more force than she had intended, for he was soon on his back in the snow.

"Afina, what's wrong?"

The look of concern on his face troubled her, and so did the sound of what she assumed was her name on his lips. The drumming of his heart grew loud again in her head – that maddening sound. So persistent, so full of fear.

And then it hit her.

She inhaled deeply and the stench of something metallic drowned her senses. She braced herself for the revulsion, but her bodily reaction surprised her. She felt suddenly intoxicated by it. It was strong, overwhelming even – and it was coming from him, the familiar stranger she had just freed. She suddenly noticed the blood that stained his shirt – a deep gash in his side. She had missed it because of the coat he wore, but because of his fall, it was open to the air and the smell of his blood hung, potent like garlic. She could smell nothing else.

Afina had the sudden urge to lick the blood from him. A part of her brain immediately protested, but something animal in her struggled to smash the rebellion as the pounding in her head grew louder.

She fell to her knees as her new heightened senses overwhelmed her and she clutched her head in agony, crying out. It was all a rush in her head, figures, visions, memories – all in jump cut, scattered, and in the wrong order.

The stranger's name was Henric, and he was her husband. He had been a regular visitor in her father's household for years. Henric was a Lord of significant wealth, just like her father, only he had no desire for the pomp and circumstance that came with his title, and she loved him for it.

His kiss from earlier suddenly pulsated on her lips as visions of every kiss they had shared suddenly raced through her mind, every touch, every look. She adored him, and he her.

Suddenly they were in these mountains. Something was after them. She couldn't remember what or who, however. Something seemed to be blocking that. She couldn't even remember why they were in Transylvania in the first place, what they had seen. All she knew was that they had been in danger and she had been caught.

The pounding in her head grew more insistent, the pain more acute with every memory she struggled to unearth. It was maddening, the pain, the noise – the drums. Those god-awful drums!

She let out an unearthly roar into the night sky as the pain seemed to resonate through her entire body, through every vein and pore. Something inside of her told her that he was the cause of her pain. There was only one way to end it… only one way.

Tears streamed down Afina's face as she looked into Henric's eyes.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"I forgive you," he replied.

The moment the words were uttered, all emotion drained from her face as her features contorted into that of a monster. Sharp fangs grew from her gums as her eyes drained of color and became solid black.

Afina leapt forward and had pinned Henric to the ground with a single movement, grabbing hold of his arms intuitively as she straddled his waist and dug her teeth into his neck. He let out a scream of agony as she tore the flesh away and the hot blood poured out. That metallic smell overwhelmed her, drowning her senses, and she reveled in the carnage, devouring every ounce of blood greedily, like a fiend; a starved, ravenous wolf. The more she drank, the quieter the pounding in her head became, and that seemed to encourage her further.

With a sense of urgency, she tore open his shirt in one clean swipe and smashed a fist into his chest, frenzied, desperate to make the drums in her head stop. The moment she grabbed hold of his heart and pulled, the drums finally stopped and her teeth sank into the organ, the blood dribbling down her face and neck, all over her hands and arms.

It didn't take long for the madness to cease and when it did, the realization of what she had done hit her mercilessly. She looked down at Henric's bloodied corpse in absolute horror. Her hands shook uncontrollably as struggled to back away from the blood and the carnage.

"What have I done? Good God, what have I done?" she repeated over and over again as she clung to the birch that he had been tied to. The guilt was overwhelming to the point that she could feel the blood she had consumed starting to make its way back up, as though her body were rejecting it on moral grounds.

She was suddenly aware of the sound of the footsteps she had heard earlier, the ones that had called her here in the first place, and she turned her head quickly to find a dark figure of a man standing over her.

He was dressed in black from head to toe, regal in appearance, with eyes that seemed to see right through her into her very soul. His presence brought her a confusing mix of comfort and terror.

"Help me," she choked, struggling to keep her wanton feast down. "Please."

The man looked away from her for a moment and then over at the corpse of her dead husband with a hint of both wonder and amusement, as though he were impressed. His eyes then moved back to her.

"You don't know who I am?" he asked, almost carefully.

She shook her head, and released the trunk of the tree, reaching for the edge of his cloak with a blood soaked hand.

"Please," she pleaded. "What's happening to me?"

"You're in transition," he explained with mild disinterest, moving away from her. "Your consumption of this man's blood is completing the cycle. You're becoming a vampire."

"What?" she gasped, as though the air she didn't really need had been stolen from her.

"Yes. Your body is naturally rejecting it. You have to make a choice, Afina. Either you die or you live."

"How do I know I'm not already dead?"

"You're still moving, aren't you?"

"This isn't living."

"You're right, but it can be. You have to want it bad enough. You must fight to live."

"I don't want to die," she cried. "Please…"

He knelt down beside Henric's corpse and motioned to his neck that was still oozing with blood.

"Then you need to finish what you started."

More tears streamed down Afina's face.

"I can't…"

"Then you die," he said matter-of-factly and stood as though to leave.

Afina could feel herself getting sicker, weaker with each passing moment. She knew she didn't have much time, but she wasn't ready to die. Not like this. She managed to crawl toward Henric's body, the smell of his blood sending a slightly euphoric sensation through her veins and she surrendered to it, leaning her head forward towards his neck to drink.

The more she consumed, the less ill she felt, and the guilt from before seemed to numb itself with every passing moment. She noticed the stranger on the other side of Henric's body, kneeling in the snow, and she watched as he reached toward her, gently caressing her hair as she finished, as if to encourage her.

"There, there," he said softly. "That's it."

Instinct seemed to tell her when she was done, and when the task was complete, she fell back into the snow, relishing in the cold that enveloped her entire body and a sense of exhaustion overcame her.

"There she is," he said with a sense of pride. "My bellator." He bent down and gathered her into his arms, lifting her with ease and taking her deep into the night.

* * *

**Reviews and constructive criticism would, naturally, be appreciated. Responses may determine whether or not this get's continued. They feed the muse and his ego - which has been rather starved as of late, or so I've been told.**

**_Notes for the Reader: _**

**Item 1:_ bellator_ means "warrior" in Latin (at least according to Google translate and Yahoo! answers it does. I'm no scholar of dead languages, unfortunately). Technically, the female equivalent is _bellatrix_, but I didn't want every one thinking of Harry Potter whenever that word was used. In addition, I've never really liked how some words feel the need to be "feminized" - as if there needs to be some distinguishing factor between, for example, a female vampire or "vampiress" and a regular male "vampire." The gender distinction is unnecessary, so I decided to go with the masculine version. So for all intents and purposes, we're just going to go with _bellator_. I apologize to all Latin-speakers and purists out there that I may offend. I hope you can forgive me.  
**

**Item 2: the story's title - _la douleur exquise_ - is French for "the exquisite pain", or, more specifically, "the heart-wrenching pain of wanting the affection of someone unattainable." Don't ask - it just felt appropriate. I've changed the title of this story 6 times already. Hopefully this one sticks. **

**Item 3: Musical Influences section [below] - this is a section I want to include in as many chapters as I can, as music plays a large part in how/what I write. The following songs were what I was listening to when the idea for this story came to me/when I was writing.**

_**Musical Influences  
**_[1]_ Cesare Borgia_ by Jesper Kyd, "Assassin's Creed Brotherhood" OST  
[2]_ Welcome to Widow Woods_ by Two Steps From Hell, "Halloween"  
[3]_ Catharsis_ by Die Verbannten Kinder Evas, "Dusk and Void Became Alive"  
[4] _Dracula - The Beginning_ by Wojciech Kilar, "Bram Stoker's Dracula" OST

blumilein


	2. The Bloody Lesson

**Reminder: rated M for gore and violence. Not recommended for the faint of heart, the particularly sensitive, or easily offended. **

**Please review and let me know what you think!**

* * *

**Chapter 2: The Bloody Lesson**

Afina struggled to maintain consciousness as the dark stranger carried her deeper into the forest. The feeling of nausea and the excruciating pain in her head had ceased, leaving in its wake a sense of delirium, a lightness of person that made her feel like she was floating in the air. The only part of her that felt heavy was her eyelids, which were struggling to stay open as she longed to surrender to the unavoidable sleep, but she fought and she fought hard.

The man looked down at her, noticing she was still conscious, and a bemused grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"There's no use in fighting it," he said. "The sun will rise soon, and because you are still in transition, slumber is inevitable. It would be wise not to resist it."

"Where are you taking me?" she managed weakly.

"Some place safe. It won't take long for those villagers to come snooping around and the minute they find that mess of yours in the clearing, they'll come looking for you."

"Who are you?" she asked him, struggling to lift her head so she could get a better look at his face. He didn't answer and she was too tired to persist.

They arrived at a cave, which was hidden behind a frozen waterfall and a curtain of thick, overgrown vines and shrubbery, heavy laden with snow. The cavern was freezing and blacker than pitch, but for reasons Afina hadn't yet comprehended, she could still see everything as though a light shone in the dark. The walls were made of obsidian rock, and after what felt like an age of walking through the winding passages, they reached a large opening. In the far corner was a makeshift bed of wolf and bear pelts and the stranger carefully placed her down on a layer of fur before covering her up – not that she needed it. The cold felt wonderful on her cheeks and she sighed almost dreamily as the fur caressed her skin.

Afina drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep almost immediately.

When she awoke some time later, it was to the sound of a steady heartbeat in the darkness. It was strong and constant, a never ending rhythm in twos, like that of a drum. Unlike before, that beating wasn't overwhelming. If anything, it was soothing, gentle and soft – as though it were in the distance somewhere, like a song. She opened her eyes slowly to find she was still in the cave. The blue of her eyes lit up the dark cavern as she took in her surroundings.

The dark stranger was seated on the other end of the opening. Beside him was a single candle, offering barely enough light to see the leather-bound notebook he had in one hand and a quill in the other. Afina sniffed lightly and immediately noticed the scent of blood in the air. She watched as he dipped the quill into an indistinguishable mass beside him, and when he lifted his hand the tip of the quill was stained with the life-giving crimson. And to make matters worse, that mass beside him was where the heartbeat was coming from. He was using a still-living creature's life-blood as his ink.

Afina sat up carefully, not feeling nearly as weak as she had before, but aware that she was not at her full strength either. Instinct told her that she'd feel better if she feasted on the blood of the unknown beast beside the stranger, and just the thought caused her stomach to growl in consent.

"You're awake," the stranger said aloud, not looking up from whatever it was that he was writing. "You've been asleep for three days. I was starting to think you hadn't taken to the transition after all. I had forgotten how long it sometimes takes to turn a mortal."

When she didn't reply, he looked up from his notebook.

"You must be hungry," and with a single movement, he pulled back a heavy cloak, revealing an unconscious woman. The woman's neck had two puncture marks near the base where her flesh would then curve into her shoulder. The smell of the blood washed over Afina's senses and she sighed, licking her lips unconsciously. She wanted to sink her teeth into that skin and ravenously devour every drop of blood in her, but the vision of Henric's bloodied corpse was fresh in her mind. The memory of what she had done to him wracked Afina's soul with a guilt she could barely handle. She turned her face away from the woman, in hopes that looking away would make it easier to suppress her hunger, but the smell seemed to permeate the cavern like the smell of a pot roast, complete with carrots and onion and potatoes. Her mouth watered at the thought and her stomach gave another angry groan, demanding its hunger be sated.

"I can't," Afina insisted. "I won't kill again."

"Why not? You've done it before. Seemed to enjoy it, actually. I've never seen a new fledgling rip out the heart of their meal. You were positively gluttonous."

There it was again – that irritating sense of amusement in his voice, like the fact that she had brutally slaughtered and feasted on her husband was excessively diverting. It angered her, more than she had anticipated, and she sent him a venomous glare.

"I will not kill this innocent girl," Afina shot, her eyes glowing brighter with her anger.

His expression grew dark.

"You shall," he said in a tone so icy, it sent a chill down her spine. "If you starve yourself, your hunger will become so insatiable that you won't just kill one mortal, but dozens – anything with a heartbeat that you can get your hands on. It's better that one die than an entire village."

"I won't do it!" Afina shouted, standing up suddenly. "I didn't ask for this!"

"You _chose_ to transition, Afina. You _did_ ask for this." His reply was laced with a wrath her gut knew she should not test, but she didn't care. The guilt of Henric's death had turned to a grief so terrible, it was consuming her.

"Who did this to me?" she demanded.

"Does it matter?"

"Of _course_ it matters! I swear to God that I will have my vengeance! Whoever did this to me, whoever turned me was the one who tied up my husband. They _knew_ I would find him there. They _knew_ I would kill him, just like you want me to kill that girl! What kind of sick bastard are you? Who did this to me? WHO DID THIS?!"

Her screams were met with the blur of his fist slamming into the cavern wall beside her head. The stranger stood towering over her, a white-hot anger in his eyes. His face was stern, with no signs of understanding or pity – only wrath, and a twinge of desperation.

"You will feed or I will force you."

She spat at his feet and glared defiantly at him.

"I'd rather die."

"You're already dead," he hissed, and he marched over to the girl who was rousing from her slumber. "You want to risk losing control? Fine by me." His face contorted into that of a monster as his fangs lengthened into sharp razors and he chomped down viciously on the girl's neck, not even bothering to muffle her screams with his hand.

Afina cowered in the corner in horror as she watched him violently tear the flesh of the girl's neck, her blood smearing all over his face and hands. When he was done, he shoved the lifeless corpse violently to the ground, the skull sending a sound crack resonating through the cave. The two locked eyes on one another, staring for several long, tense moments in the dark.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," he said in hushed tones. After a few more moments of silence, he finally looked away, pulling a handkerchief from a pocket and wiping the excess blood from his face before sitting back down and picking up his notebook again. Afina watched him carefully, trying to figure out why his face looked so familiar.

"You're a vampire too," she pointed out.

"Clearly."

"Are you the one that turned me?"

"No," he said after a moment's hesitation. Something in the back of her mind nagged at her, telling her not to trust him, but she silenced it immediately. He had helped her on the night of her transition; he had taken her to a safe place; had tried to offer her food; had watched over her these three nights. She didn't know what it was, but something told her that if he had been the one who had turned her, he wouldn't have gone to such lengths to take care of her.

"Why are you helping me?" she asked. It took him a moment or two to answer, and when he did, his voice was so hushed, she could barely make out what he had said.

"Because every lonely monster needs a companion."

They didn't speak a single word to one another for the next week. Afina stubbornly sat in the same corner for seven nights; refusing any food he offered her – human or animal – though it was getting more difficult to resist the temptation. She was starving. Every night was the same. She would awaken, some time after the sun had gone down, and she'd be alone for at least an hour before he would return with "food." He'd silently offer it to her first, and each time she refused him, and each time he met her refusal with unnecessary violence on the poor victim he had ensnared. It got to the point where his brutality no longer disturbed her – at least not as greatly as it had before.

On the eighth night, she awoke to an empty cave once more, only this time, he did not return after the usual hour. She waited, and the longer she waited, the more conscious of her hunger she became. In the past evenings, his barbaric behavior had been her motivation to deny herself what she truly wanted. Now that that motivation was absent, her hunger was more persistent.

By the time the fourth hour had passed, Afina began to notice how dry her skin had become. She could smell the rot coming from her – without the sustenance of living blood, her body was doing what it should have done nearly two weeks prior – it was decaying. But she knew that decay would not mean her death.

Vampires didn't die by starvation.

But they could be driven mad by it – and Afina, being a new fledgling who had only feasted to complete her transition, was on the brink. She could still smell the dried blood on the cavern floor from the stranger's violent attempts to get her to feed. Sensing that he was nowhere near, she crawled over to the space where the blood had pooled.

She was so hungry.

She ran her tongue along the floor, in hopes of getting just a little bit of blood. As disgusting as it was, the taste still remained, and the beast inside her cried out, begging for nourishment. She knew what she was about to do, and tears streamed down her face at the thought.

_Block it out_, a voice said in her head. _Your morality is your weakness. Block it out_.

Afina pushed herself weakly to her feet, and made her way out of the cave with ease. The night air was brisk and cool. Snow was beginning to fall from the night sky as Afina wandered about in the woods in search of food. Her bare feet barely touched the deep snow as she made her way through the forest, listening for a sound, any sign of life.

And then she heard it.

The drums.

That heartbeat in her head.

It was smaller than a human's, but strong. Forgetting how weak she truly felt, her senses heightened as she moved more quickly through the trees, following that almighty rhythm. After a short amount of time, she noticed a lone wolf in the distance, its fur a light grey, almost white, causing him to blend almost perfectly with his surroundings.

Afina could almost smell the blood pumping through the wolf's veins and just the thought of blood made her fangs grow long in her mouth. She had a moment's hesitation as the thought of killing an innocent animal plagued her mind, but the hunger was stronger than her conscience. Afina leaped out of her hiding place with a deadly silence that took the wolf completely by surprise.

It yelped and then clawed at her face in an effort to create some distance between them, but the blow barely fazed Afina as she growled at the beast. The wolf dove for her and her arm was soon caught between its jaws, its sharp teeth tearing into her. The pain was excruciating, but her hunger was master. She grabbed the beast and pulled it close to her using her other arm, even as the wolf yanked at her flesh, and she bit directly into the back of its neck. The wolf cried out, immediately releasing her arm, but it was too late.

The blood sent a warmth through Afina, all the way down to her toes. She could feel her flesh revitalizing, could feel the flush returning to her cheeks and the deep russet color to her hair. Her senses increased in precision and everything seemed alive around her. It was exhilarating. Just before she could finish off the beast, she caught the sound of something else – another heartbeat. This time it was human.

She released the wolf and wiped the blood from her face with the back of her wrist as she moved closer to the human heartbeat. The closer she came, the more heartbeats she noticed – more, dozens more. The animal in her demanded to be sated, and having pushed down her conscience, she was more than willing to oblige.

She started with the blacksmith first, then his apprentice. Then the stable boy, the horses, the innkeeper, the barmaid, everyone in the tavern, the priest in the church, the wet-nurse, the whores, the drunks, the gravediggers. All of them. Within three hours, Afina had slaughtered every living soul in the village, her rampage ceasing when the heartbeats did. She was finishing up on a gypsy, when the dark stranger appeared out of nowhere, grabbing her by the shoulder and literally hurdling her off the man. The force of his pull was so great, Afina's body crashed through the tavern wall and she landed in the snow outside.

She watched in drunken amusement as he came following after her, positively livid. But she was so intoxicated from her killing spree that she hardly cared. She merely lay back in the snow and laughed maniacally as she watched the sky dance for her.

"What have you done?" he demanded. When she didn't answer and only continued to laugh, he suddenly appeared in front of her, grabbing her forcefully by the throat and lifting her up into the air. "What have you done?" he shouted. That seemed to snap her out of it because the laughter died and her eyes – which had by this point turned completely black – melted back into their normal blue. Afina's eyes darted here and there, all around them, and she finally took in the carnage.

There were bodies littered in the streets, their necks torn open. The once pristine snow was now running with blood, and the stench of death was sickening.

With a timing that was almost too perfect, her conscience decided to make an appearance, and the guilt that hit her was so powerful, it knocked the wind out of her.

The dark stranger began to notice the change in her countenance and he immediately released her throat, but instead held her face in his hands.

"Oh no you don't. You are not going to go all pious on me again. You're going to face your mistake and learn from it."

"No, God, please no," she pleaded, but he wouldn't hear it. He turned her around so she could face what she had done and held her face firmly in one hand to make sure she looked long and hard.

"God has nothing to do with this, Afina. This was you – this was you losing control, you being too damn stubborn to listen to me. I told you this would happen, Afina. I _told_ you it would. This is what happens when you don't obey."

"I – I didn't want…"

"Yes you did," he insisted. "You wanted their blood. You did it to survive, but you lost control. Say it."

"Please…"

"Say it!"

"I lost control."

"Again."

"I lost control." He continued to tell her what to say, and the more she repeated it, the calmer she became and his rough grip on her face softened considerably. "I need blood to survive. If I don't feed, I can lose control. Losing control leads to unnecessary death. Unnecessary death leads to exposure. I am in control. I need blood to survive. I am in control. I am in control."

"Afina?" She turned to look at him. His face was close to hers; his expression soft with just a hint of genuine concern. "Afina, you don't have to feel everything," he told her, gently caressing the side of her face with the back of two fingers. "That is one of the blessings of being what we are. Yes we must kill to survive, but we don't have to feel each death. You can turn it off."

"I don't want to lose my humanity," she told him with tears in her eyes. "I don't want to be this monster."

"I know… I know."

"What's your name?" When he hesitated to answer, she repeated the question.

"Vlad."

"Have you ever killed like this before, Vlad?"

"Many times. And not just because I was hungry."

"How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Live with the guilt?"

He held her face for a moment longer before allowing his hand to rest on her shoulder.

"I bury it."

"But what if it resurfaces? What if the dead don't stay dead?"

_That's a peculiar way to describe it_, he thought to himself with a smirk. "Well, a great deal of rationalization and a healthy dose of denial have always worked for me," was his answer.

She smiled at this, finding it amusing that this powerful vampire before her had need for something so human as rationalization – though she had a feeling that part of him was completely serious. The tears continued to stream down her cheeks.

"Come," he said, placing his hand at the small of her back. "I want to show you something."

He led her back inside to wear the young gypsy was lying on the floor, coughing up his own blood and struggling to stay alive. For the first time, Afina looked at her last living victim – really looked at him. He had a handsome face, with a strong jaw and sharp cheekbones; thick, dark brows and a well-manicured beard. He was clenching the side of his throat in a weak effort to stop the bleeding, but Afina could tell by the sound of his waning heartbeat that he didn't have long.

"Life for these mortals is hard, my dear," Vlad explained, "strenuous, depressing, always living in fear of a death that they were born to meet. Their probation on this earth is so short, so fleeting, it's ending inevitable." Afina knelt beside the gypsy and gently took the hand that was holding the gory wound and carefully moved it away. The gypsy's eyes were filled with fear and pleading. He didn't want to die, she could see it in his face. But the pain he was feeling was pouring out of his eyes. "They live in a constant state of pain and suffering, a yearning for greater things that they can't possibly have," Vlad continued. "Each time you kill, you free a soul from their state of purgatory."

"If I'm freeing them, then why am I plagued with this guilt? Who am I to decide who lives and who dies? I'm not a god."

"You are to them. You cannot age, you cannot be killed, you have power over life and death – powers you haven't even begun to comprehend, powers that I can teach you to use. But you must place this morality of yours aside, Afina. And you must start by setting him free. Finish what you've started."

Afina watched as the blood continued to pour from the gypsy's neck. His heartbeat was slower now, but insistent, as if he were refusing to go.

"Concentrate. Accept your fate and let it go."

And let it go she did. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, taking all the guilt, all the faces of those she had slaughtered and she released them. She didn't want to die, and he was right – if she was going to survive, she had to accept this rationalization that he had offered her as truth. Once she had made up her mind to bury her guilt, it was easy to forget it, and the moment the deed was done, she bent down and finished off the gypsy, drinking in his blood until his heart stopped.

When the deed was done, she looked into the gypsy's eyes and saw the life leave his honey-colored irises, glazing over into a vacant void. She could feel the guilt creeping up, but she violently shoved it down and closed the gypsy's eyes with her hand before turning to look up at her new master.

His expression seemed to be saying "Well?", as though he were waiting for some kind of confirmation that she had done as he had instructed.

"You're right – that is a great deal of rationalization," she said with a slight smile.

He laughed. He had a wonderful smile – the kind that spread all across his face and lightened the eyes.

"Come. We need to clean up your mess," and he offered her his hand, helping her to her feet.

"And how do you propose we do that?"

"Fire is the perfect purifier. But first, let's gather some supplies – bedding, furniture, weapons," he looked her up and down for a moment and smirked. She was still in the torn dress he had found her in, with its massive claw marks exposing her back, stomach, legs, and a portion of her chest, and it was soaked in the blood of the villagers. Her filthy appearance made her look positively feral. "You may want to grab some clothing as well. Take whatever you like. Then we'll burn this place to the ground."

The neighboring towns didn't hear about the fire that completely destroyed the village and killed all its inhabitants in their sleep until a couple of days later. Some called it an accident. Others called it the work of the devil. But no one dared enter that part of the mountains, for all that ventured forth never came out alive.

* * *

**Would like to take a moment to thank the 3 people that took the time to review chapter 1 - **_ForeverACharmedOne_**, **_MissVD_**, and **_invisible reader_**. I greatly appreciate your kind words, your encouragement, and your reactions to the last chapter.** **Thanks for the feedback! Please keep it coming! **

_**Notes for the Reader: **_

**Item 1: Not sure if this is even really a "note", more of an explanation or FYI - I cut an entire scene out of this chapter describing the village massacre in more detail. ****Felt it was a bit much, so I removed it, but the huge musical influence for that one was number 3 (from the soundtrack to a movie I still haven't seen! Curses!). So if it feels like something's missing, it's because an entire scene has been cut. I tried to weave the ends together as best I could. Hopefully I did my job well.  
**

_**Musical**** Influences**_  
[1]_ The Hunter Becomes the Game_ by Clint Mansell, "Stoker" OST  
[2] _Beautiful_ by Apocalyptica, "7th Symphony"  
[3] _Gypsy Massacre_ by Danny Elfman, "The Wolfman" OST


	3. Rules of the Hunt

**Not sure how I feel about this chapter, yet. I've rewritten it three times now and spent the last two hours or so on edits - can't seem to figure out what's rubbing me wrong. Maybe I'm just over-thinking it? There are some bits of this that I really like, but then there's others where I know what I want to say or what I want to do and I just can't get it the way I have it in my head. Curse this rustiness of mine!  
**

******Ugh! I don't want to post this yet! Curse my over-thinking! Screw it. I'm committing. You're getting this now. **

**Forgive any grammatical errors or sentence fragments. I did my best to catch them all - may have missed a few. Oh well.  
**

**Please let me know your thoughts! Your reviews/opinions are _always_ appreciated. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Rules of the Hunt  
**

Afina pulled on a corseted underbust waistcoat vest, securing it over a black blouse made of a light but strong material with sleeves that stopped at the elbow. Her dexterous fingers made quick-work of the laces, tucking away the excess before fastening the the small belts. She smiled slightly to herself. This would suit her just fine and it was infinitely better than the dress she had worn last week.

She was just finishing up as Vlad entered the cave. It was still strange to her how she could sense his presence even before he had crossed the threshold, as if from his very person emanated an authority that even nature had to bend a knee to. She was fascinated by the power and mystery he shrouded himself in. She had been under his stewardship for over a month now, and she still knew so little about him.

She also knew little about herself, she quickly noted in silence. Everything about her person seemed so new to her, even without the recollection of her history. She felt as though she were being molded into something by his very careful hands – what that was, she couldn't be certain. But there was one thing she was absolutely sure of – he knew more than he was letting on. Instinct and the way he occasionally looked at her, how at times he seemed to be holding himself back when he spoke to her was evidence enough. But if Afina had acquired anything in the last few weeks, it was a resilient sense of patience. Their hunting excursions had only fine-tuned that ability. She watched as he glanced at her for a single moment before looking away.

"Black suits you better than those rags you were wearing," he commented, taking a seat in the chair in the corner and removing the leather-bound notebook from his pocket, idly scanning over its pages, trying to look busy. She often wondered what was in that notebook of his, what he wrote in it, why he always kept it so close to his person. "And the pants will be easier to maneuver in than those dresses you've been wearing the last few weeks."

"I agree." She pulled the laces of her leather wrist cuffs nice and tight, before masterfully tying them off with a single hand.

"You certainly clean up nice."

"Thank you," she replied with a slightly shy smile, somewhat taken aback with how warm and agreeable he was being. "It feels nice to be in normal clothes and less exposed."

She missed his bemused grin – her flesh may have been better covered, but her new clothing, from the corset, down to the pants, even the thigh-length boots, hugged every inch and curve.

"I'm glad you feel more comfortable," he concluded, watching as she pulled her thick curls back and tied them out of her face.

"So what is that notebook for, anyway?" she asked, making her way over to him after she finished dressing. "Is it a diary?" she teased, trying to catch a glimpse at its pages before he snapped the book shut.

"I don't think you're ready yet," was his answer as he secured the book in his pocket.

"What? You don't think I can handle it? Is it really so scandalous?"

He smirked, amused at how playful she was behaving. He leaned back in his chair, deciding to play along.

"Quite scandalous," he crooned.

"_Really?_" She sat on the edge of the table in front of him, her legs crossed, resting her chin in her hand as she leaned forward, pretending to be engrossed. "Is it filled with the sordid details of your conquests? The names of all the women you've seduced? The men you've killed?"

"I could stock an entire library with books filled with the names of those I've charmed, the ones I've lulled into a false sense of security…" His voice was a dark purr, his clandestine expression pulling her in so much so that she couldn't have prepared herself for his sudden attack. He leapt from the chair with inhuman speed and pinned her back to the table, pressing the tip of a jagged stake between her breasts.

"What is the first rule of the hunt?" he asked, with a tone of admonition.

"To always be aware of your surroundings," she recited indignantly.

"And the second?"

"Always have the upper hand."

Satisfied by her answer, he released her and took a step back, allowing her to sit upright again.

"Vampires are born predators, Afina," he explained, twirling the stake between his fingers. "Everything about us draws in our prey – from our appearance, our aura, our scent, the sound of your voice – and not all vampires will welcome you into their covens with open arms. They are the most cunning and the most traitorous species. They will turn on their own kind without a single thought of allegiance if it means saving their own skin. They will gain your trust, exploit it, get what they want from you…" He threw the stake right for her heart and she caught it just before the tip could touch the skin. He didn't smile, but she could see the approval in his eyes. "… and they will kill you if they view you as a threat. Remember that. You want as many allies as you can, but you must never trust any of them."

She nodded, watching as he moved with an unnatural grace toward the exit.

"So I shouldn't trust you, then?" she asked him. He paused for a moment before looking back at her.

"Me especially," he replied. "I'm notorious for exploiting the weaknesses of my prey in order to get what I want."

The sexual undertone of his warning made Afina's skin crawl. His honesty drew her in more, but also unsettled her slightly. Had he just confessed something? Was he exploiting her inexperience and her trust for his own gain? But she didn't have much time to ponder the feeling.

"It's time to hunt." He motioned for her to follow.

"I was thinking," she began, following him out of the cave, "could we forgo the hunting of animals tonight? I want to try humans again. I'm tired of picking the hair out of my mouth."

He laughed. "After what just happened? No, you're not ready. Besides, I thought you preferred the hunting of animals versus the slaughtering of 'innocent' humans," he pointed out with a coy smile.

"Well, I can't live off of bears and wolves in these mountains forever. And you yourself said that human blood is the most sustaining. I have to learn eventually. Maybe you can teach me how to feed without killing?"

"Easier said than done."

"But it _can_ be done."

"Of course it can."

"Then I want to learn. Besides, death is a natural part of the life-cycle. As vampires we just, sort of, help it along."

"Look who's rationalizing now," he teased. She went to smack his arm, but he caught her hand in mid-flight and sent her a look. She pulled her hand away.

"It's basic evolution," she continued. "Survival of the fittest. I'm just trying to survive."

"You were doing a superb job back there," he replied sarcastically.

"I wasn't anticipating that. It won't happen again."

"And what if you kill again? Hmm? Can your conscience handle more blood on your hands?"

She paused for a moment as the very real prospect entered her mind.

"We'll have to cross that bridge when we get to it," she concluded.

"Not 'we,'" he corrected, as they stepped out into the night. "'You.' _You_ will have to cross that bridge. I've made my peace with my conscience when it comes to killing. You must do the same. All vampires must."

Afina noted her raggedy, torn dress still outside of the cave beside the small pond where she had left it almost a month ago – the dress she had been turned in. The blood stains had darkened by now into an almost reddish brown color. "What should I do with this?" She picked it up.

"Burn it, or leave it. I could care less."

Afina began to ball up the dress when she caught wind of a strange smell coming from the rags. She brought the fabric to her nose and inhaled deeply.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I smell something… familiar."

"Probably the blood of the fifty or so villagers you killed last month," he said dismissively.

"No, not that…"

"Then maybe it's the blood of your late husband? Or your own, for that matter…"

"No this…" she inhaled deeply once again. Along one of the claw marks on the front of her dress where her stomach was, was a small splatter of blood that hadn't gone brown. It was still a deep red. She tore the fabric into a long strip before tossing the remnants of the dress aside. Having separated the stained material from the rest of the dress, she breathed it in once again. "I've smelled this before."

The way she said that caught Vlad's attention and he made his way over to her. She handed him the strip of fabric and watched him closely as he examined it. After smelling it once, he handed it back to her.

"Vampire blood," he explained. "It would appear you managed to harm your attacker the night you died."

"But I thought you said you were the last of your kind?"

"Of my line."

"Your what?"

"Not now. Come. The night is waning."

"Do you at least recognize the scent?" she asked him hopefully.

He didn't answer and instead began to walk away.

"I know you heard me."

"Do you want to be nothing but ash when the sun rises?" he asked her impatiently. She quickly caught up with him.

"Well, can we talk and hunt at the same time?"

"No."

She wanted more than anything to argue with him, but decided against it, gingerly folding the strip of fabric and tucking it into her pocket as she followed his lead.

The two of them moved about in the forest for some time in complete silence. The snow was beginning to disappear the farther they moved down the mountain, with winter melting into spring. After a while, Vlad finally broke the silence.

"Hunting humans is slightly trickier than hunting animals," he began. "The concept is fairly similar – you select your prey, become acquainted with their surroundings, look for weaknesses, and when the moment is right you can either strike, using the element of surprise, or you can enter their mind, hijack their consciousness, and _then_ attack. With humans, especially if you want to keep them alive, the latter is the wisest route. They struggle less and it's easier to wipe the even from their minds when you finish. But a human's mind is more difficult to penetrate versus a wolf or a bear. Mortals may have stronger minds, but their blood is more sustaining, making the effort worth-while."

She nodded her understanding, suddenly becoming aware of an array of heartbeats a couple of miles ahead of them. They were nearing a village. Those drums danced in her head and before the sound could bother her, she followed advice he had given some weeks ago on blocking the noise out. It had gotten infinitely easier to do and was now almost second nature. He noticed and though is face remained stoic, his eyes were filled with approval.

They situated themselves on the outskirts of the town, hidden in the darkness. Most of the village was asleep, but there was still some activity in the tavern.

As they waited for some time, Afina couldn't suppress her burning curiosity. She knew by now that he wasn't keen on her asking him dozens of questions at once, but she had also learned that any questions she did have he would answer – but in his own time. Figuring that now was a decent opportunity to see if he was open for a discussion, she glanced down at his right hand, noting a barely visible tan line where a ring would have been.

"So who took your ring?" she asked him, motioning to his hand.

"An old friend," he answered.

"Why'd he take it?"

"As evidence to his superiors that he had successfully murdered me," he replied stoically, with just a slight underlining of malice that unnerved her a bit.

"Your best friend murdered you?"

"And slept with my wife, then pushed her out a window when he found out she was carrying his child, and then he proceeded to slaughter my children, turn my entire country against me, as well as the church, and then he quite literally stabbed me in the back and I lost my head." He made a movement with his hand that suggested he had lost it _literally_.

Her expression was priceless, and although he would have preferred to stay in character by appearing serious, he couldn't help but laugh.

"It was a long time ago," he assured her. "Over four hundred years ago. I'm more concerned with what he did to me recently."

"He's still alive? Is he a vampire as well?"

"Quite the opposite. He's an archangel – the left hand of God."

All of this was sounding vaguely familiar, as if they had had this conversation before.

"Gabriel Van Helsing," she finished for him, her voice hushed. The name was so familiar to her, and so was the memory of the face attached to it. "I know that name," she explained when he looked at her knowingly. "How do I know that name?"

"On rare occasions, when a fledgling's death is particularly traumatic, they lose their memories for a spell. I was wondering when you'd start to get yours back."

"Wait, you knew I had lost my memory?"

"When you didn't recognize me the night you were turned, I was certain you had, yes."

"I knew you before?"

"We were… _acquainted_."

She wasn't sure how she felt about the way he said that word. He was holding something back again. She could feel it.

"Did I know you were a vampire?"

"Yes."

She thought on it a bit more, struggling to unlock the memories that insisted on staying forgotten. Although it caused a slight ache in her head, she managed to unveil a couple of memories. He was right – they had met, just a couple of nights before she had died.

"We were guests in your house, my husband and I," she recalled.

"You were."

"So why have we been living in a cave for the last month and a half?"

"The worst place for a newborn vampire to live is in the middle of a small town," he explained. "It was the safest alternative – for everyone."

"Why didn't you kill Henric and I when we came to you?"

"I had no need to. You were no real threat – at least _you_ weren't. And your husband did not believe who your superiors said I was."

"My superiors?"

"The Order of the Vatican."

"Who did they believe you were?"

"A member of the House of Drăculești, a branch of the House of Basarab, but I am more commonly known by my patronymic name…"

"Dracula," she whispered. That name sounded even more familiar than Van Helsing's. "You're _Count_ _Dracula_."

"I am."

It was starting to come back to her.

"But… but you died almost five years ago. Van Helsing – he had killed you. I remember that."

"_Had_ being the operative word," the Count explained. "I hadn't anticipated him learning my secret, managing to get himself turned into a werewolf. Fortunately though, I suppose, I'm too damned for Heaven, and Hell was in no rush to take me."

"So that's why you came back?"

"Partially. It helps to have a cult following that worships and fears you enough to know how to bring you back," he said with an ironic smile.

"What?"

"Don't ask."

"So that's why Henric and I were sent here. To confirm the rumors of your return."

"And when you had, you were attacked."

"Did you send our attackers after us?"

"No. Not after _you_, anyway."

She sent him an incredulous look.

"You mean you sent them after my husband?"

"I didn't say that. Stop jumping to conclusions."

"But you _just_ said…"

"When I found out they were after you, I told them that _you_ were to remain unharmed. At that point, I didn't really care what happened to him."

He realized immediately that he had said too much and he mentally kicked himself for doing so. Giving her that kind of information would only make her more curious and he lacked the patience to deal with that at the moment. Not that it mattered. Afina was without words. His comment had at least a dozen potential explanations and she wasn't sure she liked any of them.

But it didn't matter what she thought. Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a drunk man being shoved violently out of the tavern and into the mud. The drunk was dressed in riding chops and a thick coat, his face unshaved and rugged, his black hair tangled and long, pulled into a low ponytail. She would have dismissed him, except she noticed a thick scar running up his cheek and right next to his eye on the left side of his face. She knew that scar, knew that man. He was a vampire hunter, a member of the Order of the Vatican – just like Van Helsing, just as she and Henric had been. But that wasn't all – she could smell Henric's blood on this man. Although the three-claw knuckle dagger on his hip had been wiped clean, she could still smell the blood. She recalled the wound on Henric that had triggered her blood lust the night of her transition.

This man had been responsible for that wound.

The Count noticed the hardened expression on Afina's face, the look of revenge in her eyes as they followed the man, taking in every step he took.

"I suppose there's no use in saying that going after a vampire hunter as your first true kill is unwise?"

"No use, whatsoever."

"Then I'd at least recommend waiting until he's asleep before attacking," he suggested.

"But the night will be gone in just a few hours," she insisted.

"It's a risk we're going to have to take."

She opened her mouth to protest, but the look in his eyes was firm and so she relented, albeit begrudgingly.

Afina and Vlad watched as the vampire hunter – Raphael was his name – staggered drunkenly over to the stables, hearing him collapse in the hay, singing an old Spanish tune that Afina recognized.

"I always hated that song," she grumbled. The Count chuckled quietly, clearly enjoying her anger as they waited for the man to fall asleep.

By the time he fell asleep, it was roughly an hour till sunrise. The Count had suggested several times that feeding elsewhere and coming back for Raphael would be prudent, but Afina wouldn't hear it. She didn't want anyone else's blood but the vampire hunter's, and if it meant risking exposure to the sun or getting staked through the heart, by God, she'd do it.

At long last, they made their way out of the forest and down to the village, their movements inaudible as they snuck into the stables, shutting the doors behind them in case the sun rose. Afina found Raphael out cold on his back in the corner. She crept toward him, practically gliding across the floor before kneeling down beside the slumbering hunter. She could hear the steady beating of his heart enveloping her senses, could almost smell the fresh blood pumping through his veins. Flashes of memories passed over her eyes of her past interactions with this man. She had never liked him. Afina would feel no remorse over his death. She bent over him carefully, going in for his neck when she heard the Count shout her name behind her rather suddenly just as she felt something cold and metal pierce her flesh. It felt like ice tearing through her as Raphael shoved a silver stake straight through her heart.

She heard the Count make a move to help her but was thwarted by a lithe figure dressed in brown and black leather, her hair equally as raven as Raphael's. She, too, staked the Count where he stood, only to be met with a powerful shove that sent her flying across the stable and through the wall, outside into the early morning.

The sun was beginning to rise.

Afina managed to sit back as she watched Raphael sit up beside her, his hand still gripping the stake. He twisted it violently and Afina gave a sharp gasp, feeling the small spikes that decorated the stake tear her heart to ribbons.

"You," she whispered; her voice positively deadly.

She gave out a ferocious roar and grabbed Raphael by the neck, lifting him with surprising ease as she stood. She looked down at the stake sticking out of her chest in wonder. She should be dead – _really_ dead. Everyone knew that a silver stake could kill a vampire. Still holding Raphael by the throat, she used her other hand to pull the stake out of her chest and she and Raphael watched in amazement as the gory wound between her breasts healed right before their eyes.

"It's impossible," Raphael choked in astonishment. "You – you should be…" but before he could finish, the Count had arrived by her side, practically tearing the hunter from Afina's grip and sending him violently into the ground. He violently tore the stake from his own chest and threw it directly at the hunter. Raphael moved just in time for the stake to miss his heart, but it landed soundly in his left shoulder. He let out an angry cry of pain and fell to the ground. Momentarily satisfied, the Count quickly turned over to Afina, holding her shoulders in his hands and looking at her with astonishment.

"You're not dead."

"No, I'm not," she confirmed, equally as surprised as he. The Count looked down at her chest where the stake had been and gingerly moved back the torn fabric, careful not to touch her skin. She was completely healed.

"It can't be."

They were suddenly interrupted by a loud crash of the stable doors as Raphael, mounted on a horse, made a run for it. The morning sun filled the stable in a matter of seconds, bathing both of them in light. Afina braced herself for a painful destruction as the Count struggled to shield her from the light, but nothing happened.

Both remained unharmed as the glorious morning washed over them and they looked at one another in wonder.

"Well, this is most convenient," Vlad replied, with a smile that seemed to suggest a suspicion of his had just been confirmed.

"You seriously have a _lot_ of explaining to do."

"A conversation for another time?" he offered, motioning with his eyes to the open door.

As if she had read his mind, she nodded and the two dashed out of the stables, shifting into their hell-beast forms, taking to flight just as the villagers began to stir from all the commotion.

* * *

**So there's chapter 3. Sorry it took a week to get it up. That wasn't the plan. Was in kind of a funk earlier last week and when I _was_ writing, I wasn't satisfied. I feel better about this chapter, but it's still not "perfect." Oh well! No use in agonizing over something that is supposed to be for fun. Time to move on. **

_**Notes for the Reader:**_

**Item 1: I did make some minor changes to the earlier chapters to help with the consistency of future ones. Also received some critiques - did my best to implement those suggestions without altering the integrity of the story or wasting absurd amounts of time to get it "perfect", because perfection is subjective and I can't please everyone - as much as I'd like to. Besides, it doesn't _need_ to be perfect. This is FanFiction for crying out loud! And I'm rusty at this, nor am I the best, so there! I'm just going to let go and play. **

**Item 2: I removed the links for the musical influences from my profile. I will still continue to include the names of the songs that inspired or set the mood for each chapter, in case anyone cares to look them up. Personally, I always love finding new music. Hopefully someone out there feels the same.**

**A HUGE thanks to all those that took the time to review - namely **Kalika Barlow**, **invisible reader**, **ForeverACharmedOne**, **Danielle**, the excellent **Riona Winters**, and the ever-lovely **Roux Barcelone** who offered critiques and feedback offsite. **

_**Musical Influences:  
**_[1]_ Dead Sister_ by Brian Reitzell & Alex Heffes, "Red Riding Hood" OST_  
_[2]_ As Wings Blot Out the Sun _by City of the Fallen, "Divinus"_  
_


	4. The Hunters

**Chapter 4: The Hunters**

It didn't take long for Vlad and Afina to catch up with Raphael. He had taken off into the forest in the vain hope of losing them. Between the stables and the forest, the hunter had managed to pull the stake from his shoulder, but he couldn't seem to apply enough pressure to the wound in order to stop to the bleeding _and_ maneuver the horse effectively at the same time. Afina and the Count were high in the sky, careful to stay right on top of Raphael until they reached a clearing big enough to enter.

The odds were against the hunter no matter how hard he rode the horse. If the sun had been a threat to the vampires, the daylight would have been on his side. If the silver-tipped arrows he managed to shoot with his gas-propelled crossbow even managed to hit one of them in the heart, then maybe he could stand a chance of killing them, or at least slowing them down – even with his expert marksmanship. The winged beasts flew hard and fast, dipping down into the trees occasionally in an effort to get a clear shot at him before flying up into the sky again when the space became limited. Afina appeared to be just as indestructible as the Count. Every hit she took only fueled her anger. As a human, she would have strived to have better control over her temper, but with dozens of images and memories swimming in her head and the sting of Raphael's arrows burying deep into her flesh, she lost herself to her fury. If anything, she relished in it, allowed it to fuel her deep sense of concentration, channeling her rage as she closed in on the hunter.

The scent of his blood enveloped her senses and she could feel her fangs lengthening in her mouth, even before she dived down once more to see if she could at least knock him off his horse. Her attempt was met with the three-claw knuckle dagger slicing into her face, sending her off course and smashing into a tree. She felt her spine snap at the impact and she groaned, momentarily paralyzed as her body quickly tried to heal itself. She could feel the ligaments pulling the shattered bones back into place and the skin on her cheek miraculously patching itself, the blood retreating back beneath the surface just before the wound closed completely.

The Count landed beside her just as she finished healing and he offered her a hand, pulling her to her feet.

"What's the third rule of the hunt?" he asked her.

"What the hell does it matter?" she shot hostilely. "He's getting away." She moved to take off after the hunter, but he grabbed her by the arm, holding her in place.

"We are not affected by the sun, and he's bleeding. He'll be easy to track, which means we have the upper hand and can use his blood loss to our advantage. Now, answer the question. What is the third rule of…"

"Exploit your enemy's weaknesses," she growled, wiping the excess blood from her face.

"And the four…"

"If possible, always use the element of surprise," she interrupted. "There. Are you happy?"

The look he gave her put her in her place instantly.

"Would you get control for two seconds and _think_?!" he nearly shouted. "Don't prove to me that all women are reactionary creatures controlled by their emotions, Afina. You're smarter than that. Use your mind. Take in your surroundings."

Although frustrated that he had to pick now of all moments for a lesson, she relented, inhaling deep in an effort to get control over her anger. She masterfully pushed all thought to the back of her head and just listened. She could hear Raphael riding farther away. He was heading southwest, towards the river. His horse was old – Raphael's mistake – and though it was riding fast, she could tell by the beating of its heart that it was growing tired quickly. Raphael, on the other hand, as growing weary from the loss of blood; she could hear it in his breathing, in the beating of his heart. A cool breeze from the mountains brushed again her face and she listened to the way it moved through the trees, noting a gap in noise in the direction Raphael was heading. It gave her an idea.

"Do you know what to do?" Dracula asked her. She nodded once and was about to take off, before he grabbed her arm once again, stopping her. "Don't get overconfident. You may be immortal, but you're not completely invincible." She was silent, but nodded once again before taking off into the air. He followed after her just moments later, lagging behind, watching his pupil as she prepared to prove herself to the master.

Afina flew close the trees as silently as she could, predicting the hunter's path and flying ahead a few yards before landing, taking cover in a tree. At exactly the right moment, and not a moment sooner, she jumped to the ground, just a few feet from the hunter, the sudden action spooking the horse so bad that it jumped up on its hind legs in an effort to stop, effectively knocking Raphael to the ground. The horse took off immediately, heading back toward the village, leaving Afina and the hunter alone.

She watched with half-hearted amusement as the proud hunter pushed himself to his feet. His breathing was labored, as though he were struggling for oxygen. She listened keenly to his heartbeat as he pulled out a blade, ready to defend himself. His heartbeats were irregular and his breathing sharp on the intake, as though he had fractured a rib or two. Although he was arguably twice her size, he was slightly hung-over from his escapade in the tavern just hours ago, the alcohol still fresh on his breath.

And although her animal instinct craved his blood and revenge for her deceased husband – something inside of her didn't want to kill him, not really.

"I didn't want to kill Henric, Afina. You have to believe me," he pleaded, still holding the knife toward her. "It was Isabella. She was mad – when she found out who you really were, that Henric didn't care for her, that he was willing to give up what they had to be with you, she lost her mind, made pacts with vampires. If I refused to help her, she would have had me killed, too."

"Give up what they had?" she asked him, confused by his words. She struggled to remember – she remembered Isabella. That was the woman who had attacked the Count in the stables. But what did she have to do with Henric?

"You didn't know?" Raphael asked, bewildered. "But I could have sworn… that's why she left. After she saw you with…" He suddenly noticed Count Dracula a short distance away, watching them closely. "No," he breathed in terror. "No, it can't be. Afina, you can't trust him. He's a demon!"

Afina felt torn. She was at war with two halves that wanted completely different things – one wanted nothing more than to slaughter this murder. He may have tried to kill Henric against his will, but he was a brute. Even she knew that. She suddenly recalled an instance when she had watched him terrorize a camp of gypsies when they had first arrived in Transylvania in search of Count Dracula's whereabouts. He had made a move to hit her on several occasions when she crossed him. But despite her animalistic desire to shed his blood, his warning about Dracula unsettled her. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to get control over her conscience, to bury the memories that were distracting her.

Raphael took her moment of struggle as a chance to strike and he charged, read to bury the dagger into her collar, but she caught his hand in mid-air before the blade could even touch her skin and her eyes snapped open, the blue now black as pitch. His hostility had made her decision simple.

Kill or be killed.

He was a threat, and threats had to be eliminated.

Afina's grip on his wrist was so powerful, the hunter grimaced from the pain as she squeezed. When he refused to drop the blade, with a quick flick of her wrist, she had snapped his hand back. The sound of the bones breaking rang in her ears as his shout of pain echoed through the forest. With another movement of her wrist there was another pop – the sound of his arm breaking. This time the hunter screamed.

The sound elated her. She felt dark, powerful, in control – and she loved it.

Not wasting another moment, she drove straight for his neck and buried her fangs deep into the artery, tearing it with her teeth. The blood splattered all over her face as she drank greedily, devouring mouthfuls of a time, trying to capture the spray in her mouth. She could taste the alcohol in his blood and it sent a warmth all the way down to her toes.

Raphael managed to shove her away with his only other functional hand, quick to drive his three-clawed knuckle blades into her arm. She unleashed a hellish growl, but quickly recovered, smacking the blades off his hand and sending them flying into a tree nearby. She moved with a speed and precision that the hunter was no match for, disappearing and reappearing again in front of him, behind him, clawing at his flesh and then retreating before he could get a hit in.

The Count watched with fascination from a distance as she attacked, as she toyed with her prey like a cat with a mouse, bloodying up the hunter, even allowing him to cut her up a bit, simply because she enjoyed the sting. She felt invincible with the sun on her back and her enemy's blood on her tongue. But the game soon became old and she went in for the kill. In one powerful blow, Afina slammed her fist through Raphael's chest, just below the heart. His ribs shattered, puncturing his lungs and he began to choke on his own blood, watching in horror as this woman, with her hand inside his chest, grabbed hold of his still beating heart.

"You killed Henric," she hissed, eyes ablaze, fangs dripping with venom. "Isabella didn't have to tell you to. You _wanted_ to."

"Perhaps, but I wasn't successful," he corrected between coughs. "Vampires got to him before I could finish him off."

It quickly got to the point where all Raphael could do was cough and sputter blood. Fueled by rage and the heat of the carnage, Afina clenched her fist around his heart and with a strong tug, pulled the organ from his chest. An intense pleasure, as though she were aroused, consumed her, taking her completely by surprise. Her conscience made one last attempt to reclaim her, but the monster devoured her senses. Raphael's knees immediately gave way beneath him and she caught his body before it could collapse on the ground. She fell to her knees with him in her arms as she brought his gaping wound to her mouth, drinking what was left of his lifeblood. The morning dew of the tall grass was soon replaced with the blood of the hunter.

When she was through, Afina lifted her head, gasping for breath as her sanity slowly returned. She waited for the guilt to set in, but it never did. The pleasure of a successful hunt was still coursing through her veins and the light of the sun felt glorious on her face. As the elation passed and a delightful calm began to wash over her, the Count appeared beside her.

He said nothing at first, only watched her. The way he looked at her sent another wave of warmth through her. The sense of awed pride in his eyes made her feel supreme.

"I thought you said you wanted me to teach you how to feed without killing?"

"I changed my mind," was her answer.

"And can you live with that?"

She thought about it for a moment before nodding.

"I've set him free. God can deal with him now."

The Count's smile was almost malicious and he offered her his hand. She took it, allowing him to pull her up to her feet with ease. He handed her a handkerchief with a sudden mild disinterest before crouching down beside the body, rummaging through the corpse's pockets.

"Would it be accurate to say that you enjoyed that?" he asked casually, removing the small pouch of gold pieces and pocketing them before revealing a small handful of letters with the Vatican seal.

"A bit too much, I think," she confessed, wiping the remaining blood from her hands, neck, and face. "But not in the revenge kind of way that I had initially assumed."

"You mean you enjoyed it in an erotic way," he stated. She was almost ashamed to admit it, but she nodded shyly.

"What the hell is the matter with me?" she laughed awkwardly.

"Nothing, actually. That's completely normal for a vampire." He stood and handed her a ring – a wedding band she recognized as her own. Apparently Raphael had stolen it. "It's been said that the vampires with noble blood gain a kind of erotic pleasure from the hunt, rather than the usual method of coupling. One of the highest forms of affection for vampires is when two completely lose themselves in the hunt and with one another – to where their minds, their movements, and their souls are completely entwined. The only thing greater than that is the sharing of blood."

"You mean they feed off of the same person?"

"Off of each other."

Her skin crawled in delight at the thought.

"So what do you mean by _noble blood_? " she inquired. He motioned for her to walk beside him, heading back toward the village where the vampire hunter's companion still resided, as he explained.

"Contrary to popular belief, I was not the first vampire the earth had ever seen. The most notorious, perhaps, but not the first."

"You mentioned bloodlines earlier. Were you the first of your bloodline?"

"Yes. When I died, my bloodline passed with me, killing every vampire I had ever sired, along with their fledglings, and so on and so forth."

"I'm not sure I entirely understand."

"Before I became a vampire, there were three other bloodlines. The oldest of the bloodlines cannot be killed by stake or sunlight or the bite of a werewolf. They are truly immortal. But they are also incredibly difficult to sire in their truest form. A vampire truly immune to all means of death must be born. Because of the circumstances of my creation, I inherited the first two traits when I was turned over four-hundred years ago."

"You mean, a member of the oldest bloodline turned you? But I thought it was the devil?"

"Not exactly. Before Van Helsing murdered me, I had made a blood oath with dark forces. That much is true. It ensured that if I died, I could be brought back. But before I was killed, I had also consumed the blood of an ancient vampire, which assured that when I came back, I would become immortal. In order to turn a human into a vampire, the mortal must have consumed a vampire's blood within at least three days before their death."

"What about me? I didn't drink any vampire's blood."

"That you can recall."

"True. But how does that explain my ability to walk in the sun, or my immunity to the stake?"

"You are one of the few direct descendants of that original line."

"But vampires can't procreate. Their progeny are born dead."

More memories started flowing back to her consciousness as they spoke. She could recall studying vampirism in her mother's house by the sea.

"True. But if the conditions are right, if a vampire copulates with a human, a half-breed, or damphir, can be born."

This, too, was familiar to Afina. She could have sworn they had had this discussion before as well. In fact, she was sure of it. She could see the two of them in her mind's eye, seated in a gently lit study before a roaring fire in the still of the night – just the two of them.

"My father," she recalled in hushed tones. "He was…"

"A vampire. One of the oldest vampires, and one of the greatest men I have ever known."

"Known?"

"He was destroyed by the Order, when you were just a child. We're still not quite sure how they did it. Your mother was devastated. Although she was married to the man that raised you by that point, she could not conceal her grief."

"I remember… she cried for weeks. Ever y time she looked at me, she cried."

"It was because you looked so much like Alrik, with your dark curly hair and your blue eyes."

"I remember you visiting," she said, everything becoming so much clearer the more they spoke. "Your presence was a great comfort to her."

"Your mother was an excellent woman. I was saddened when I heard of her passing a few years ago. How old were you?"

"Twenty-four. You know, I remember you had a wife back then when I was a child – a really beautiful woman with curly blonde hair."

"Marishka," he said with a reminiscent sigh. "One of my loveliest brides."

"One of them?"

"In an effort to connect the original three bloodlines with my own, I took a bride from each line. Verona was from your father's line. A very loyal woman. Fiercely loyal. Marishka and Aleera's lines were dwindling rapidly with the influx of vampire hunting in the more populated areas of Europe, Asia, and what is now America. I had hoped to restore their lines with our progeny, but…"

"Van Helsing." The name seemed to explain everything and the Count nodded.

"Yes, Van Helsing. So convinced that restoring the strength of the bloodlines would bring about the apocalypse. The Order loves that prophecy."

"I'm sorry for your loss," she offered sincerely.

"Don't be. It was my own foolish pride, my arrogance in thinking that I could get away with leaving the Valerious line unbroken. I wanted to torment my father's lineage into the eternities as punishment for my father's betrayal."

"He had tried to have you killed?"

"More than once. It was the Valerious' that brought Van Helsing to the Carpathians in the first place. After my murder, he had fallen from God's grace and as punishment for his sordid life, he lost his memory at some point. I had hoped that the loss of his memory meant that he was no longer a threat. A vast understatement on my part."

"He still doesn't have his memory, you know," Afina offered. Much of her memory appeared restored by this point, as though someone had removed a veil from her eyes. Some things she still couldn't quite recall – like the details of last few days of her mortal life, but the rest of it was there, a collection of conscious memory.

The Count was intrigued by this bit of information, but didn't have a moment to discuss it further with her. They had arrived at the village and were being greeted by at least sixty villagers, armed with stakes, axes, swords, and pitchforks, ready to defend their small town.

And tied up and gagged was the vampire hunter's companion – Isabella.

Dracula smirked.

"Ah, I love it when they cooperate."

He took a step forward.

"Just take the woman and leave us in peace," the man holding the female hunter demanded. He was the tallest of the bunch and clearly their leader. The Count took a single step forward and Afina nearly laughed when the entire village took two steps back. Only their leader held his ground, though Afina could tell by the sound of his heart that he was terrified. Count Dracula immune to daylight was one thing, but an additional vampire with the same immunity – it was unheard of.

"And why would I show mercy to an entire village of weak, pathetic humans harboring not one, but _two _vampire hunters?" he inquired. His voice was so smooth, so calculating, even Afina felt a chill run down her spine. This was the first time she had truly seen him interact with others – that she could remember, anyway. His air of confidence, the way he held himself – he was a natural-born leader.

"We have lived in these mountains for generations," an older woman in the back exclaimed. "Spare our lives so that we may continue to do so. Take the hunter and go in peace. We have done nothing to offend you."

"I don't make deals with peasants."

"But I do," Afina interjected, to everyone's astonishment. She boldly moved forward until she was standing side-by-side with him. "We will take this hunter and give you your lives in exchange for your silence. Not a word of what you have seen today must leave this village. If that knowledge goes beyond these borders, we will know where the knowledge originated from, and I assure you, the river with run with your blood and the blood of your children."

The silence was deafening, but the mortals understood. The leader nodded his approval, shoved the tied-up hunter in the direction of the Count, and crossed himself.

"_Illa __ut __requiescant in pace_," he muttered, taking a step back.

Before the Count could bring the woman to her feet, Afina was standing over her, a look of curious wonder in her eyes as she struggled to place the face and the name with her still foggy memories.

The dark hair and eyes were familiar, but it was her voice when she uttered "nosferatu" behind her gag that brought a fragment of a recollection back.

"Isabella," Afina said aloud, partially in acknowledgement, but mostly in reminisce.

The name had a whirlwind of emotions attached to it – feelings like friendship, jealousy, and betrayal. Isabella managed to maneuver herself to her knees before her new captor and she struggled with her gag. The Count untied it so she could speak more clearly.

"Damphir _slut_!" the hunter spat. Her insult was met with Afina's hand around her neck, holding her head in place as she stared directly into her eyes. Isabella struggled against the power of Afina's mind manipulation, straining to look away from the electric swirl of her glowing blue eyes, but the lack of breath made it near impossible and with very little effort, Afina was in her head and soon, the female hunter was unconscious.

* * *

**Not much on the author's notes end for this chapter. Just wanted to thank **ForeverACharmedOne**, **invisible reader**, and **Anna** for their reviews on Chapter 3. I appreciated the time you took to share your reactions and feedback. I always love to hear what my readers think, so many thanks!  
**

**Also - Happy Belated Canada Day to my Canadian readers (you're showing up in my traffic stats, so I know you're there!), as well as a Happy Belated Independence Day to my fellow yanks! Hope everyone had a fun and safe holiday. And to everyone else, I hope you all have a fabulous weekend! Stay cool if you're like me and living in an area where it's been over 100°F/37****°C** for the last couple of weeks. 

**Next chapter update should be sometime next week, so until then - let me know what you think and thank you for taking the time to read! **

**Musical Influences:  
**[1] _Scorpiox_, by Ramin Djawadi, "Clash of the Titans" OST  
[2] _The Queen is Dead,_ by Richard Gibbs, "Queen of the Damned" Score  
[3] _Velocitron_, by Two Steps From Hell, "Invincible"


	5. Show No Mercy

**Was going to wait and post this tomorrow morning, but what the heck! I'll give it to you now. Please forgive the grammatical and spelling errors I may have overlooked, as well as my continued rustiness.  
**

**Enjoy! **

**REMINDER: Rated M for violence and gore (so far). If you're sensitive to that sort of thing, then what the heck are you doing reading vampire FanFiction in the first place? ;)**

* * *

**Chapter 5: Show No Mercy**

The villagers had all huddled to the other side of the town, leaving the tavern quiet and empty. Afina moved Isabella into the building and out of the sun, tying her arms and legs to a chair.

Then Afina sat on the edge of the table and just stared into Isabella's glossed-over eyes. Her mind and memories were carefully guarded and try as she might, Afina couldn't seem to get whatever information it was she was looking for. Her instincts told her that this woman was the key to recovering the remainder of her memories. She couldn't explain why, but she knew it.

After some time, the Count joined her in the darkened room, noting how she hadn't moved for a while.

"I'm not sure I want to know what happened before I died," she finally said. When the Count didn't respond, she continued. "Before I came here, before I met you, I had so many questions about who I was, who my father was. I hadn't even told Henric what I really was – I barely understood it myself. All I knew was that I took an unnatural joy in violence. It was as though there was a she-wolf living inside of me, this animal that I could barely contain. She was always hungry, always lustful, and positively insatiable. Before my mother died, she mentioned you – said that you had promised her that you would help me if I ever needed it. When I heard that there was a possibility that you had returned, I had to know for myself. I felt connected to you and I had no idea why."

She looked over at him and found him staring intently at her. She couldn't read his expression, that strange look in his eyes. She couldn't even guess what he was thinking, but something told her that he knew a great deal more than he was letting on. Everything about him was a façade, an act, a character that he had assumed in order to protect either himself or something else entirely.

And in that moment, she wanted more than anything to understand the man who had taken her under his wing. What was his motivation? Why had he taken such care, such pains to make sure she could survive? Why did she get the feeling that he wanted something from her? Was _that_ why he was helping her? Was she _his_ prey? Was he exploiting her weaknesses, biding his time? She didn't have a clue and as much as she trusted him, not knowing bothered her.

"Did I find out why?" she asked him. "Did you answer all of my questions?"

"All of them," he replied. "Even the ones you were too afraid to articulate. Not just the questions about your father and the blood that coursed through your veins, but also about the 'wolf' inside of you."

The way he said 'wolf' sent a strange heat through her – as if her body remembered something her mind did not. Before the tension between them could increase, she changed the subject.

"I can't get into her mind," she explained, motioning to Isabella. "And I'm not sure I have the strength to break down her carefully constructed walls. She's been trained by the Order to do that – of that I'm certain."

"There is another way." He made his way across the room and stood behind the hunter, gingerly moving her dark hair to one side before pushing her head down until her chin touched just above her clavicle. "There is a very old technique I learned from a vampire in Istanbul many years ago. There's a spot on the back of the neck, where the head connects to the spine. If you hit it just right, you can extract memories and information from the blood."

Afina slid off the table and made her way over to him. "Where?"

He took his two fingers and pointed. "Your fangs must go exactly there. But you must be careful not to sever the chord or get your fangs stuck between her spinal discs. Fangs take at least a month to grow back if you break them." He gathered Isabella's hair in his hand and held it as Afina studied the back of the hunter's slender neck.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked. "Once you obtain her memories, there's no unknowing them."

"I need to do this," was her reply. He nodded and pointed at the spot she needed to bite. Afina's fangs lengthened at will as she descended down to the hunter's neck. "Careful, now," he encouraged.

The sharp tips of her fangs sunk deep into Isabella's neck and Afina's eyes rolled into the back of her head at the taste of blood erupting into her mouth. She sucked deep and closed her eyes, gripping the back of the chair as an onslaught of Isabelle's memories swarmed Afina's consciousness. She moved through them in quick succession, moving rapidly through the woman's childhood, adolescence, adulthood, her time with the Order, cataloguing the varying degrees of information away instinctively.

Then she arrived to about a month before she and Henric had arrived in the Carpathians. Isabella had had eyes for Henric. It had taken a great deal of persuasion, but around the time Afina's mother died was when Isabella and Henric's friendship had started to turn into something more.

Afina watched as the secret affair Raphael had mentioned took place right before her eyes. While Afina had grieved for her mother's passing and the newfound knowledge that she may not actually be human, that her true father was really a vampire, she had pulled away from her husband, and after a time, he found himself in the arms of his wife's best friend.

The knowledge both disgusted and infuriated her. The devastation that a man she thought she knew had been sharing the bed of another was a betrayal she almost couldn't bear. She remembered learning the truth of it, severing ties with Isabella, giving Henric the chance to redeem himself… all on the night she had died. Being told about it was one thing, however. Seeing it for the first time was something else entirely.

Afina continued to watch Isabella's memories as they flashed before her eyes.

When they had arrived in Transylvania, Henric had grown more distant from her, as he became more devoted to Afina and the jealousy and hatred Isabella felt was so potent, Afina wondered how the woman could have borne it without dropping the slightest hint.

She watched as Isabella eavesdropped on a discussion she, Afina, and the Count had shared in private about what she was. Isabella disclosed the information to Raphael who wanted to send word to the Order that they had a damphir in their midst, that she was in league with Count Dracula, but Isabella had instead approached a vampire coven in a neighboring village. They were allies of the Count, sworn to protect him at all costs. When Isabella disclosed information that Afina and Henric were threats to the Count's safety, she had ultimately signed Afina's death certificate.

After seeing enough of Isabella's memories, Afina pulled back, almost drunkenly, stumbling backward until she hit a nearby table, falling back onto it. Her entire head spun as her own memories became more clear, aligning with Isabella's timeline.

She recalled arriving in Transylvania – noting how it felt so familiar to her, like she had finally come home after being away for so long. She remembered arriving in Vaseria, at the Valerious manor, where they were greeted by silent peasants and a welcoming Count who was the very embodiment of charm and masculinity. She recalled his hospitality, sharing her husband's bed that evening, how remorseful he appeared to her. She had suspected that something had passed between him and Isabella, and although part of her felt betrayed at the very likely possibility, something in her didn't care and that bothered her.

She saw the following three days play out in her mind's eye – the extravagant meals, the scenic walks, the exquisite luxury of the place, and the Count was always present. One evening, after a horrible argument with Henric just as the truth of his affair had come to light, Afina had been struggling to sleep in a separate chamber, but sleep had been impossible. She found the Count wide awake in his study. He had invited her in. They talked for hours about who he truly was, about her father, who she was, what she was, and what she could become. The details of their visit were still fuzzy, as though a veil had been drawn over that night, preventing her from remembering. All she could recall was a deep sense of pleasure, a sense of wanton abandon that made her feel free – as though she were flying.

There were no details.

No images.

Just colors – the deepest of reds and the blackest of blacks, swirling together in a sensuous dance, fluid and without restraint.

The memories started to become clear again as she recalled the next day – her last day as a human, when everything had gone so horribly wrong.

The Count was missing that evening – out on business. They were attacked by a werewolf. Isabella had gone missing shortly before the attack had started, leaving Henric and Afina to fend for themselves. They got separated in the forest as Afina was wounded and chased down by a vicious vampire that showed no mercy when he attacked. He was stopped by another whom, at first, she thought may have had a role in her murder, but everything was clearer now. The blood she had smelled on her raggedy dress from earlier belonged to this single vampire – this member of the Agnar coven.

He had left her there for dead upon the other vampire's instructions. She had been bleeding out in the snow, freezing, filthy, her clothes torn to shreds and barely hanging onto her rapidly paling limbs. And then all consciousness ebbed away as her heart slowed and then stopped.

All was still.

All was quiet.

And just as she started to move toward a warm and heavenly light, she was plunged back into darkness as an excruciating pain wracked her body.

The transition had begun.

A memory of Isabella's suddenly shot to the forefront of her mind – that same vampire that had attacked her was the one who tied Henric to the tree, on Isabella's instructions. She in turn had received written orders from Van Helsing for Afina's death. He had suspected she wasn't entirely human, but if Isabella had confirmed that Afina was indeed a damphir, Isabella had been commanded to kill her. Henric was merely expendable. Raphael may have been responsible for the wounds on her now deceased husband, but Isabella and that nameless vampire were responsible for her death _and_ Henric's.

As Afina gained better control over the onslaught of Isabella's memories and her own, her head felt less light and she managed to sit up. Isabella was fully conscious now and she and the Count were watching Afina closely, curious as to what she would do next.

Afina slid off the table and stood in front of Isabella. The rage and sense of treachery made her want to snap the woman's neck and end it now. But she couldn't bring herself to do it.

She looked over at the Count.

Neither said anything for several long moments of tense silence. They merely stared at one another.

Why couldn't she remember the details of that night?

What had transpired between them?

She had her suspicions, but she wasn't sure if she was ready to admit them to herself. But she couldn't look at him anymore. She couldn't look at either of them.

Afina began to make her way toward the door.

"Well?" he called out to her. She turned her head and looked directly into his eyes.

"Do what you will with her. I want no part in it," and she shut the door behind her.

The Count listened as Afina flew off and when she was a safe distance from the village, he turned to Isabella. His face had taken on a dark expression, one that left a very unsettled feeling in the pit of the hunter's stomach.

"So you're the reason for this mess," he began, his voice smooth with a menacing undertone. "I must confess, when I sent you that forged letter from Van Helsing, I had no idea you'd be so eager to comply."

"That was _you_?" Isabella asked in shock.

"Of course it was. The Vatican has no idea regarding Afina's true nature. If they did, do you really think they would have sent her out here, to _me_?" He tsked teasingly, pulling up a chair and taking a seat in front of her. Even on a simple wooden chair, he sat as though he were on a throne. "For having a reputation of being one of the cleverest and brightest female hunters the Order has ever produced, I must admit I had been hoping for more of a challenge."

"Why would you send me that letter if you didn't want Afina dead?"

"Because the only way I can get her to recognize her true potential is if she is a vampire. The life of a damphir is so convoluted as it is – being two halves of two completely different species, struggling with things like morality, a conscience. Vampirism is much less complicated. I've done her a favor."

"But she never drank your blood. I thought one of the members of the Agnar coven had accidentally her."

"And _that_, my dear, is where you are sorely mistaken. You recall that night when you were eavesdropping in on one of my and Afina's many private conversations. Like any good host, I offered her wine…"

"You spiked it with your blood!"

He applauded her.

"Very good! Such a clever girl," he exclaimed cheekily, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He stood and began to circle her slowly while she struggled against her restraints. "You see, when I had discovered your and Henric's little… indiscretion, I knew the truth would come out eventually. Henric wasn't going to tell her at first, but with some very wise and _persuasive_ counsel from myself, he concluded that his marriage and his love for such an extraordinary woman was worth more than any number of evenings he could have spent with _you_."

Outraged by the truth, she began to struggle even more. This only amused the Count.

"And his confession did exactly what I knew it would… it led her straight into the arms of the only man she could trust, the only one who could answer her questions, who knew what she needed, knew what she wanted…"

"You took advantage of her."

"I exploited her weaknesses, yes. One of the five rules of the hunt. The first rule is to always be aware of your surroundings. I chose the most perfect location I could think of – the heart of Transylvania, in a village full of peasants who knew better than to interfere. I also predicted that you would seek assistance in destroying your competition, and with a few members of the Agnar coven located just a couple of miles away, it was too perfect to resist. Of course, I had assumed that when I told them to leave her be they would obey so I could turn her myself in a more traditional manner, but one of them has been experiencing shifting loyalties. But in the end, it all works out in my favor, really – she dies at this other vampire's hand, and she'll naturally want revenge, and if I play my hand correctly, and if I'm very patient, I get the girl. And through her revenge, I have one less competitor of my own to deal with."

"But she trusts you! How can you just take advantage of her like that? Have you no heart?"

"What do you think?" His smile was positively devilish. "And don't pretend like you care for Afina's well-being, my dear. We all know you don't."

"But it isn't fair," she insisted. "She had _no one_ now! She doesn't know who she is, she barely understands _what_ she is, which gives you the perfect opportunity to mold her into whatever you want! She doesn't stand a chance against you."

That devilish grin grew even darker.

"Few truly do. But that's because of the second rule of the hunt: to always have the upper hand." His laugh was wicked and the darkness in his eyes sent an icy chill through her. "And let's be honest, my pet…" He leaned in close, his hands running up her thighs slowly. "I _always_ have the upper hand."

Isabelle spat in his face, venom in her eyes, but her act of defiance was met with his hand grabbing her face, his gaze holding hers and within seconds he was in her head. She felt all sense of control melt away, and the harder she tried to grasp at the retreating threads, the quicker they escaped, like squeezing a handful of dry sand.

"Third rule of the hunt – exploit your enemy's weaknesses," he purred, untying her with ease and pulling her to her feet and into his arms. He began to dance with her, a slow and intimate waltz. Isabella had no control over her body. Every movement she made was because he had willed her to do it. He pulled her close, whispering in her hear. "Your mind is weak, hunter." She felt his hand run down her backside, his middle finger tracing the seam that ran between each cheek of her buttocks before smoothing his palm over her thigh. "Your body is even weaker." He continued to dance about the room with her, their bodies close, each movement he made emanating a precise amount of intimacy and danger and she was becoming intoxicated by it.

He dipped her down suddenly and when she was pulled back up she was met by a mouth full of fangs. She tried to scream, but nothing came out of her mouth. It was like a waking nightmare. She was in the arms of a horrifying monster and she couldn't scream, she couldn't move. She was helpless. He began to spin her around, faster and faster, until finally she felt his hand let go. She whirled around, having control over her body again and noticed he was gone.

Not wasting a single moment of time, she ran for the door, but when she opened it – there he was, waiting for her. This time she screamed, as loudly as she could, until her throat was hoarse. He had her by the arm this time as he dragged her out into the middle of the square, ignoring the villagers that watched from a distance in horror.

"Rule four – if possible, always use the element of surprise," he explained. "To be completely truthful, pet, I didn't think that one would work. I mean, honestly, me disappearing for no reason, giving you the perfect chance to escape? What kind of fool do you take me for?"

"Let me go, you monster!" she bawled, pulling hard against his grip.

"No, I don't think so. I haven't told you the fifth rule of the hunt yet. Don't you want to know?"

"Let me go! Please let me go," she wept, tears streaming down her face. "I don't want to die. Please, God, no…"

"God has nothing to do with this, my dear," he replied with indifference. "But if it makes you feel better, maybe you should PRAY A LITTLE LOUDER!" he shouted. "He can't HEAR you all the way up there on his golden throne! Surrounded by all of his glorious angels!" The hunter screamed and cried, begging for help from the villagers, but they just stood there, still as statues, watching as the scene unfolded before them. He threw her down on the ground and looked up at the sky. "Well, except for your precious Gabriel who has been TOO BUSY RUINING MY LIFE!" His face shifted into a more demonic form, his fangs bared and eyes dark as he allowed the rage to flow through him. "You want to test me? You think I've been defeated? You think I'll let you trample over me and take it with grace?" he hissed bitterly, still looking up at the sky. He then looked into the eyes of the villagers, basking in their fear.

"Where is your _precious_ Van Helsing, now?" The question was almost a hiss as his teeth began to turn to razors in his mouth. "Do you really think I'll spare _any_ of you?" he shouted. He noticed Isabella struggling to crawl away, but he stopped her before she got very far, lifting her by an arm and with a swift movement her arm dislocated from her shoulder in a sickening pop. She screamed and the entire village shuddered, otherwise motionless, unable to look away.

He released her once more, allowing her to fall to the ground in a heap as she cradled her dangling arm, tears streaming down her face.

"I am Vladislaus Draculea!" he roared, lifting his hands up into the air. "No longer the son of the Dragon, I _am_ the Dragon, the Impaler, the Prince of Darkness, and you _will _fear me!" Several villagers fell to their knees in fear, praying that God would spare their lives. "That's right, pray. Pray if it makes you feel better."

He glanced over at the hunter who was, once more, struggling to get away, whilst muttering the twenty-third Psalm beneath her breath.

"I still don't think He can hear you, Isabella. Here, I'll help you." She turned and watched him shift into his hell-beast form, which was monstrous to behold. The hellish roar he unleashed appeared to shake the earth beneath her and she quickly scrambled to her feet to run, but he had her by her good arm before she could even take two steps. He lifted her into the air, flying straight up over the village. The villagers moved out into the center of the town like an army of ants with their heads craned back, watching as the vampire flew the hunter higher and higher into the air.

"There we are," he said and he lifted her with ease, holding her by her upper arms so she was forced to face him. "_Now scream_."

Isabella unleashed a blood-curdling cry as the vampire dove for her neck and tore through muscle and flesh in one merciless bite, devouring her blood with greedy abandon. When her screams began to ebb and his hunger had been sated, he pulled his head back, looking into her glossed-over eyes.

"One final lesson, pet."

He let go of her suddenly and then caught her with one hand so she was dangling in the air.

"Please," she cried submissively. "I'll do anything. Anything you want. Just please don't let me go…"

"Rule number five of the hunt – show _no_ mercy."

He then released her and watched as she plummeted to the earth. Her body hit the ground with a nauseating smack, killing her instantly. There were screams from the village below as the elderly tried to shield the faces of the children from the carnage, but it was a harsh reality they could not ignore.

The Count's colossal form blocked out the sun, his wings casting a dark shadow over the village.

For the briefest of moments, the entire population tensed, holding their breath, waiting for him to strike, but he never did.

Instead, he flew away, his roar of victory echoing through the mountains. Nobody moved or said a word for the longest time, and when at last they did, no one dare touch the corpse of the two vampire hunters that had been brutally slaughtered that morning.

Some whispered that these mountains were cursed, that they, just like their ancestors before, were fools for residing in these woods. But just like their ancestors before, they remained, ever watching the sky, praying that the vampires would not return.

* * *

**And here we are at the conclusion of another chapter. I'm curious to know your thoughts. A special thanks to the following for your reviews since the posting of the last chapter: **ForeverACharmedOne** (thank you for being so constant in your reviews! It gives me something to look forward to), **invisible reader** (the depth of your reviews and the amount of thought you put into them always makes me smile. Thank you for taking the time to write so much!), **Teddy** (you are too sweet!), **Riona Winters **(I don't deserve you as a friend - thank you for being so wonderful and reliable; your positive feedback means a lot to me)****, **Trina C **(I totally agree. Dracula is hot)****, and **Cosmopolitan Countess** (you're the best for taking the time to review each chapter! Gah! I love it! I wish I could give you a hug!).  
**

**The responses I've been receiving have been wonderful. Please keep them coming! I look forward to your feedback. **

**Writing Dracula as a menacing sadist was both fun and extremely difficult for me. I've always written him as a more romantic/tragically misunderstood character and less of a monster with ulterior motives. I'm hoping I did my job well in this chapter. I really wanted to get his streak of sadism across, wanted him to be a truly terrifying being to behold. Hell, I really wanted that entire scene with him and Isabella to be horrifying and even mildly uncomfortable (in a good way - if that makes ANY sense). I hope I did it justice. **

**Oh, and BEFORE I have a good handful of people jumping up and saying that _Draculea_ should have been spelled _Dragulia_, I have this to say - both ways are technically correct. Stephen Sommers' script AND the film's novelization (hell yeah, I own it) spell it _Dragulia_, history spells it the other way. I decided to use the history/anglicized version... because I felt like it. **

**Well things should really start picking up come the next chapter. Fingers crossed that all of these ideas in my head translate well when I put them on paper!**

**_Musical Influences:_  
**[1] _Raven Hill_, by Two Steps From Hell, "Halloween"  
[2] _Chariots of Blood_, by Two Steps From Hell, "The Power of Darkness"  
[3] _Transylvania_, by Alan Silvestri, "Van Helsing" OST  
[4] _Dracula Transcendent_, by Tom Zehnder, "Van Helsing" game score**  
**


	6. Sealed With Blood

******Hello all! My time has been limited this week, but I wanted to get this chapter up before the weekend. Thank you for taking the time to read. Would appreciate your reviews so I know what you think. Feedback is _always_ welcome. **

******Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 6: Sealed With Blood**

Finding her way back to Vaseria and the Valerious manor was much easier than Afina had expected. In actuality, the cave she and the Count had been living in for the last month or so was hidden in one of the peaks that overlooked the small town in the hidden valley of the mountains. She landed on the outskirts of the village, not wishing to attract any attention to her presence. Using the techniques the Count had taught her, she made her way through the village silent and unnoticed. The Valerious manor was empty. Only the housekeeper remained and she was stowed away in the kitchens below, leaving the entire house free for Afina to roam.

It was strange being back within these walls, especially with the majority of her memories now intact. Her boot-clad steps made no noise as she walked down the halls, reliving moments of her last week as a human in her head. There were moments when she could almost hear the echoes of her memories as she continued to wander the halls, half conscious that she was making her way toward one room in particular.

The study.

When she opened the door to the Count's study, it was like a wave or force of some kind of invisible energy that washed over her, pulling her inside and shutting the door quietly behind her. Soon she was standing in the heart of the room, listening to the voices of the past as the remainder of her memories came flowing back, playing out before her like specters, lost forever to replay a single scene over and over again for all eternity: that final night before the last day of her life – her evening with Count Dracula.

At last, she could remember it… she remembered it all.

_After hearing the Count explain not only who _he _was, but who she truly was as well, Afina sat back in her seat and let out a heavy sigh as it all sank in. "Good God," she exclaimed, her fingers just barely covering her mouth. "But if my father, my biological father was _truly_ a vampire, that would make me a… a… "_

"_A damphir," he finished gently, offering her a glass of wine. "Here, drink this. It may help ease your nerves."_

_She accepted his offer graciously and took a long drink. The wine here may have tasted differently from what she was accustomed to, but the alcohol still managed to soothe her nerves almost immediately and she apologized for her lack of manners in the way she drank. He smiled, assuring her that he was unbothered by it. _

"_I'm actually quite impressed with how well you're taking all of this," he confessed, taking the seat across from her once again. The two were seated in separate, high-backed chairs upholstered in an almost velvety fabric before a large fire. The fire and just a couple of candles were the only source of light in the room, offering an atmosphere that was both mysterious and intimate. "Usually, when someone finds out what I am, fear is the primary emotion. It's strange that your heartbeat is so steady."_

"_You – you can hear my heart beat?"_

"_And your husband and his lover arguing quietly, the servants in the kitchen, the wolf in the forest, even the snow landing on the ground. But I can also block all of these things out, if I choose."_

"_That's incredible!"_

"_Yes, though it's also a gift that strikes fear into the hearts of many men – they fear what they themselves do not understand. A common fault in humanity."_

"_I have no reason to wish harm on you, Count Dracula," she insisted, taking another drink. _

"_Vlad," he corrected._

"_Vlad. And I think it's safe to say that I am no threat to you."_

"_But you work for the Order," he reminded her. "If they found out that I still live, even after the great Van Helsing supposedly destroyed me, they would send every hunter they had into these mountains."_

"_They wouldn't succeed."_

"_And what makes you so confident?" he asked with a smile. _

"_You're the most powerful vampire in all of history," she replied matter-of-factly. "And arguably the most powerful man I've ever met." _

"_I'm flattered." _

"_It's true," Afina insisted, placing her empty wine glass on the small table beside her chair. "My mother always spoke so highly of you, Vlad. Of how few men other than my biological father were true forces to be reckoned with. I grew up hearing the tales coming out of the eastern part of Europe. This continent used to be swarming with vampires – most vampires living alongside humans in a strange, twisted kind of harmony. Vampires that all called you master. You were worshipped, adored, feared by your bloodline, by _all_ bloodlines – human and vampire. You were like the capstone that held an entire species together. You were a legend."_

"_The operative word being _were_, my dear," he said with an almost reminiscent sigh, but her words had pleased him immensely. _

"_That doesn't mean you can't rise again," she insisted, leaning forward in her seat. "The Order is not what it once was. The church has become weak, corrupted by those in power. The rumor is that within the first decade or two of the new millennium, countries will be at war, a war that some say will envelope the entire world."_

"_I've always liked war," he confessed. "Vampires thrive off of the wars of humans. It's easier to live among you. To indulge in our basic natures without fear of discovery. But a world war – in many ways that almost threatens the vampire's very existence. With the annihilation of the human race, our own species would eventually cease to exist, unless we found some other means of sustenance. But I fear we are beyond that technology at present."_

"_Can I ask you a question, Vladislaus?" _

_He liked the sound of his full name on her lips. _

"_You can ask anything of me, my dear. I am your humble servant." _

"_You've been back for almost five years now. Why do you insist on remaining hidden?"_

"_At first it was because I needed to gather my strength –resurrection isn't as easy as it sounds," he offered with a smirk. "No, with you I must be completely open. To be truthful, Afina, I've felt so directionless since my return. The empire I had dedicated four centuries to building vanished overnight with my death. My children, my brides, my progeny – all of it. Van Helsing, once again, has taken everything from me. I feel…" He paused for a moment, as if searching for the words. "Have you ever been to the sea?"_

"_Yes. Many times, when I was younger."_

"_I feel like I'm in the middle of the ocean, floating aimlessly, surrounded by nothing except water and endless horizons in all directions," he explained, leaning towards her slightly in his chair. She, too, was still leaning forward, listening intently to every word he uttered. "All I truly want is revenge, Afina," he whispered. "I want to not only destroy Gabriel Van Helsing; I want to destroy his precious Holy Order. I want to take everything away from them, just as everything has been taken from me, not once, but twice."_

"_Revenge will only give you direction for so long," she sympathized, taking his folded hands in hers in consolation. "When your revenge is complete, it will leave you empty, hollow."_

"_I _am_ hollow."_

"_I don't believe that. The man I've come to know in the last few days is not wholly without feeling. It is just easier to feel nothing than to feel everything – lifetimes of everything."_

"_I have no use for emotions. I am a creature, consumed by sin, controlled by my basest needs, a hunter, a predator. Dwelling on emotions inhibits survival." _

_She released his chilled hands and leaned back. _

"_Do you really believe that?"_

"_I do," he answered. _

_Afina felt a disappointment swell in her breast. She couldn't understand why his response left her feeling thus. What had she expected from him? He was a vampire – driven by one thing and one thing only – hunger. The man – or whatever was left of the man in him – had lost everything. He had no motivation to rebuild again. No reason to. Nothing to live for. Had she expected something? _

_Yes – she had. As much as Afina loved her husband, there was a connection between herself and the Count, something deep that she could not explain. A secret part of her had hoped that she could be his motivation, that she could be his reason to rebuild his empire, to restore power to the vampire race – a species she had always felt a strange empathy for but couldn't explain until tonight. _

_She wanted to help him, not just because she felt this strange bond to him, but she wanted to do it for her father, the father she never got to know, the father who had worked as hard as Count Dracula to give a sense of power and pride to a people that spent their entire existences in the shadows. She had hoped that her very presence and even her lineage would give the notorious vampire reason to be great again. _

_But it was foolishly romantic, she realized, and she mentally kicked herself for getting so caught up in it all – in the legends, the mystery, this foreign land with its history, and its Count. She had no idea why she had assumed that she could spark some kind of feeling or desire in this great man. She was almost embarrassed by those feelings now and she resolved to bury them forever as soon as she and Henric left when their stay was over._

"_Well," she began after several moments of silence passed between them, "I should get back to bed. Forgive me again for intruding on your privacy and thank you for indulging my questions. I do appreciate your time." She stood and offered a small curtsy before turning to leave. Before she could even reach the door, he was in front of her. _

_He said nothing, but a silent conversation passed between them as they looked at one another, almost getting lost in each other's blue eyes. _

"_Your husband is a fool," he said suddenly, the confession taking her aback. "Why he would want any other woman when he has you baffles me. You are exquisite." _

_She blushed, unsure of how to respond to the compliment. She had never really been susceptible to flattery, nor had she received so many compliments in her life as she had in the last few days, but when he said it, she felt like a young girl at her first ball. She was too embarrassed to admit it, but she couldn't help but believe every word he said. She wanted to believe him. _

"_You are too kind." _

"_He is a fool," he repeated. "He is so unworthy of you. You deserve a man who worships the ground you walk on, who treats you with courtesy and respect; who takes care of you, but still allows you to flourish independently." He took her hand in his and kissed it without invitation, the act taking her by surprise, but it was not unwelcome. When his lips left her knuckles, he caressed her hand, almost reverently, with his thumb. "You have the blood of a warrior queen, my bellator. You deserve a king." _

"_My father – the man who raised me – he chose Henric for me. I belong to my husband. I am his." _

"_Your loyalty is commendable, but you should belong to no man unless you give yourself to him openly and freely and without restraint."_

"_And where do you suggest I find such a man?" she asked him. "Where would I find this _king_ you say I deserve? I know of no such man, living or otherwise." _

_The look he gave her made her feel weak, even mildly light-headed, but not in an unpleasant way. He looked at her the way all women want to be looked at by a man, in the way Henric used to look at her, but hadn't in so long. Not with this kind of intensity. Not with this kind of restrained passion. _

"_If you were free and willing, I would take you, right here, right now in this room. Do you think your inner she-wolf would approve?"_

Gods, would she_! Afina thought to herself. And she almost agreed to it. The way he carried himself practically confirmed the tales she had heard regarding his sexual prowess. But she would not sink to her husband's level of debauchery, even though the thought sent violent pulsations between her legs. _

"_I can't," she said breathlessly. "Though sorely I am tempted."_

"_Oh, if all wives were as faithful as you. But before I let you go, and bid you goodnight, allow me one final temptation." She looked at him expectantly. "Kiss me," he said. "Pretend I'm your undeserving husband and kiss me like you're going to die tomorrow, like this is your last chance to convince him that you're worth fifty Isabella's." _

_She stood there, motionless for several long seconds before abandoning propriety and taking a step towards him. He met her half way and took her face in his hands, kissing her long and hard. _

_Kissing the Count was nothing like kissing Henric. The Count's mouth moved with an expertise that was foreign to her. He knew just how to caress her mouth, how to tease her with his tongue, and how to playfully bite the bottom of her lip in such a way that nearly drove her mad. No kiss had ever fashioned such intense pleasure in her before. He kissed her with a wanton abandon that left her breathless, made her feel like the royalty he said she was. _

_With his fingers in her hair and his body rubbing against hers with her back to the door, it was difficult for Afina to finally push him gently away. She held him at arm's length, gripping the lapels of his coat tightly as she struggled to find her bearings. Her mouth was still pulsating from his kisses and the she-wolf begged her to abandon propriety and morality. It was like reaching for something with one's fingertips, but when Afina caught hold of her resolve, she held it desperately. She half expected him to seduce her into submission, but he respected her wishes and released her, taking a step back after she unclenched the fabric of his collar. _

_He bid her goodnight with a deep bow and a wish for pleasant dreams and she left him in the study. _

When the memory had finished playing out in Afina's mind, she had to grip the edge of the desk to stay on her feet. It took several long minutes, but she finally managed to regain her composure.

With her memories now fully intact, Afina wasn't quite sure how to proceed. She took a seat in the high-backed velvety chair she had sat in on that night over a month ago, allowing herself to sink into the cushion, resting her arms on the armrests almost methodically.

She sat there for several hours in complete silence, watching as the light of the sun moved across the floor with each passing hour until it had set and the light was gone. Her mind was everywhere and nowhere all at once. She wasn't sure what to make of this memory. It still didn't explain why Count Dracula was so keen on taking her under his wing. Had he done so in an effort to prove to her that she had indeed affected him so? Had she truly inspired him to reclaim his footing in the world? Or was he just lonely? Would he still take revenge on Van Helsing?

Afina had an inclination to; that was for certain. Isabella's memory of the letter from the infamous vampire hunter ordering Afina's murder didn't sit well with her. It was unlike Gabriel to be so cold – at least to her. Van Helsing had always been nothing but kind to her. In a way, she had always been able to relate to him, in that she had never truly understood her lineage – at least until the Count had explained it to her. And _how_ had Van Helsing discovered her true parentage? Her mother took that secret to the grave, only speaking of it to Afina before she had died.

It didn't make sense. She had questions and she wanted answers and knew the only way to get them would be to return to Rome and get them herself. But she was a vampire now, and Gabriel was clever enough – he'd figure out what she was not long after she returned.

But then she had to ask the question – did it really matter? She had told the Count that revenge always led to a sense of being without direction when it was through. She had a new life in front of her. She had gotten her revenge on Raphael and Isabella for their betrayal and she really only wanted revenge on one last person – the vampire that had killed her. Was going after Van Helsing, too, really worth her time? Was it wise?

She could not decide. So in the meantime, she would content herself with dealing with the Agnar coven, and if Count Dracula still wanted her around, she'd stay with him, perhaps help him rebuild his reputation in the world. She had nothing else to do and all of eternity to do it.

As if on cue, the Count entered the unlit study, taking his seat in front of her in the opposite chair.

"Did you take care of Isabella?" she asked him.

He nodded.

"Do I want to know the details?"

"Probably not."

She could live with that.

"I'm assuming your memory has been completely restored, then?" he asked.

"Yes, it has."

"And what are you going to do with this knowledge?"

"I'd like to pay a visit to the Agnar coven, for starters," she said after several long moments.

"I had assumed as much. And what will you do afterwards?"

"I'm not sure."

"I'll accompany you to the Agnar's, as my last act as your sire. I've taken the words you spoke to me last month into consideration and I've decided to reclaim my position and rebuild. I would be honored if you remained with me," he offered. "But should you choose not to, I will, of course, respect your decision and we will part ways in Budapest when you have achieved your revenge."

"I'd like to stay with you," she replied.

"I'm pleased to hear it."

"But I have one condition."

He hadn't expected that.

"I am not to be treated as your pet or your bride, nor will I be some strumpet you can seduce and ravish whenever your prick has an itch. I understand that you may feel that I am not your equal, but my only request is that you treat me like I am."

She saw that he was deeply amused by this, but she remained steadfast.

"And what if you have a change of heart?" he asked. "What then?"

"The condition remains the same. I am to be treated with the respect and consideration of an equal. Which means if I say _no_, you will respect my wishes. I do not wish to be treated as your inferior to be walked on or controlled for all eternity. I hope you understand."

"And I do. I accept your condition." He bit into his hand and extended it to her. "I give you my word."

She hesitated for the briefest of moments, instinct telling her that once she made this pact with him, she would be unable to undo it. He had offered her freedom and instead she was choosing to remain tied to him – perhaps as an equal, but tied nonetheless.

Committing to her decision, she bit into her hand and shook his, their blood mingling just before their wounds could heal, symbolic of the binding and permanent nature of their bond.

When it was done, they lingered in the quiet of the evening for some time until Dracula stood.

"Well then… we better get started."

"Started? With what?"

"What, did you think we were going to just fly into Budapest, waltz into the heart of the Agnar coven unarmed and unprepared, locate your killer and drive a stake through his heart?"

"Well…"

"Or, to make it even better – we'll wait until the masquerade ball during the fall equinox in Budapest and we'll do it there for all the vampire world to see!"

Afina thought about it for a moment.

She knew he was being sarcastic, but with some adjustments and maybe some additional drama, that actually sounded like an excellent plan. A devious smile began to spread across her face.

He noted it immediately and began to protest.

"No… no, no, that is a terrible plan! It was a joke."

"But it would be so much fun!" she insisted upon standing. "Can't you imagine? It would be the perfect way to display your power. You were _just_ saying that you wanted to make a come-back. What more perfect way to start than with a warning? And if they refuse to comply, we could turn it into a bloodbath!"

"Your enthusiasm is starting to disturb me," he teased.

"I'm serious! It's an excellent plan! No vampire in their right mind is going to want to challenge you! You _literally_ cannot die, and neither can I!"

"We haven't fully tested that theory yet," he muttered under his breath. "And besides, do you really think they're going to let you anywhere near your murderer when he realizes who you are? Your desire for revenge is going to be so blatantly obvious from the moment you cross the threshold."

"I can hide it," she said defensively.

He laughed, struggling to regain his composure when he noticed the expression on her face.

"No, my dear, you can't. Not well enough to fool an entire coven that has been around for centuries."

"You can teach me."

"We don't have that kind of time."

"How long would it take, do you think, before I was ready?"

"A couple of months of planning, at the very least. Not only to prepare _you_, but to come up with a feasible plan. We'd have to know every inch of where we were staying, we'd need to know who would be staying there, what events are taking place…"

"Then let's do it!"

He paused for a moment, studying her closely.

"What is it?" she asked, taking note of the strange look he was suddenly giving her. He looked her over a couple of times before explaining.

"You know what we _could_ do," he began, "we could completely recreate you." She watched as his expression became slightly more devious, calculating, even. "You have a wonderful opportunity before you, Afina. As far as the world is concerned, you're dead. You no longer exist. You now know who you once were before you became a vampire, but with the loss of your memories, you were given this wonderful and rare opportunity – to catch a glimpse of what you could truly be." He began to circle her very slowly as he continued.

"I've seen the possibilities in you, Afina. You have your father's blood in your veins, the potential for greatness – a greatness few vampires ever truly achieve. It would take an additional amount of time, but I could help you, teach you how to become great. You know how to hunt effectively, yes. But there is so much more to being a vampire, a truly powerful vampire. I can teach you how to dress, how to dance, how to talk. I can teach you how to manipulate and seduce not just humans, but the most powerful of vampires – male and female alike. I can teach you how to hold yourself with an air that is worthy of your noble lineage. I can teach you how to torture and maim; how to fight like the best of them."

"But?"

"But if you truly want to be the best, you have to surrender to your true nature completely. You must to let go of your humanity, that pious sense of morality a part of you still clings to. And you must obey me in every regard."

"I will not be your slave, Vlad," she reminded him.

"I'm not asking for that. We are equals, remember?" he smirked. "I assure you, Afina, I will not break our bond. If you say 'no' to something, I will respect your wishes, but I will not be silent if it is something I feel you must do. But if I am anything, I am a man of my word. However, until I decide that you are ready, I will be your master, and you shall be the student. This means if you disobey, I will not be easy on you. You will be punished for disobedience."

She could tell by the look in his eyes that he was being completely serious.

"I am not an easy man to please, my bellator," he explained, tenderly taking her face in his hands as he looked into her eyes. "And I can be the hardest of masters. I will accept nothing but perfection out of you because I know you are capable of it. It will take time. You will have to wait an entire year at the very least for your revenge, but I can make it worth your while."

"What's in it for you?" she asked him, gently removing his hands from her face.

"The opportunity to transform you into a weapon the world will never see coming."

Afina smirked. "Yes, a weapon created in your very likeness," she teased. "But I'm in earnest, Vladislaus. Why are you offering to do this for me? If history has proven anything, it is that your 'charity' _always_ comes at a cost."

He made his way over to the desk, removing a single match from one of the drawers and he began to light some of the candles.

"You're right, I do want something from you," he said, taking a seat behind the desk, his elbows resting on the arms of the chair, his steepled fingers resting at his lips. "When you have had your revenge and my empire has been restored, I want your help in destroying Van Helsing."

She felt her stomach drop. She should have seen that coming.

"But you can't kill an angel, let alone an archangel."

"You mentioned that his memories are still missing?"

"Yes, but I don't see what that has to do with anything."

"He is being punished for past sins, Afina. He probably violated a code of the archangels – or several – and as punishment, he was made mortal. From what I heard, his first memories were of him on the steps of the Vatican, near dead with no knowledge of his past, just his name. If this is indeed true, if we can destroy him in his mortal state, yes Gabriel the archangel will live on in the heavens, but we will have destroyed his mortal carnation."

"Won't he come back?"

"Of course he will. But we'll be angel free for the time in between. He probably won't return until Armageddon and the last days. But we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. It will be much easier to sustain an empire with him out of the way."

"And what happens if we can't?"

"Can't what?"

"Destroy him?"

"Then he and I will have to agree to a stalemate. But I'd much rather try than just sit here and run the risk of him taking everything from me again!"

By this point in the conversation, Afina had moved over to the window and she was watching as the early spring rain showered the town. The idea of going after Van Helsing did not sit well with her. Although his letter ordering her murder was disturbing, she wasn't entirely certain going after an archangel was entirely prudent.

But what choice did she have?

She could leave the Count, after all. She still had that opportunity. She could decline his offer, follow through with her revenge, and then she could leave with their original pact fulfilled. But something in her – something she still could not understand – did not want to leave Count Dracula. Something was keeping her bound to him, that connection she had experienced when she had been alive felt stronger now that she was a vampire. She didn't understand it, but she couldn't ignore it.

She had nothing left in this world. Her parents were dead, along with her husband and the woman who _had_ been her best friend. And the few friends or acquaintances she had left would certainly shun her the moment they found out what she was.

He was right – she had had the rare opportunity to see what she could become without who she had been clouding her judgment. She loved that feeling of power, of greatness. And if anyone could teach her how to become the best, it was him – the most notorious vampire in existence.

"Well?"

She turned to face him.

"I'll do it."

"Are you certain this is the path you wish to take?" he said, slightly wary. "Once we start, there is no going back. And if you betray me, I will spend all of eternity hunting you down and making your very existence a living nightmare."

His warning made her even more uneasy. Her conscience screamed, begging her to sever ties with this madman now before it was too late. But that connection she felt with him was stronger and her lust for power even greater. This time she bit into her hand and offered it to him.

"I am certain," she answered.

He returned the gesture and they shook hands once again. He smiled when the deed was done and began to make his way to the door, motioning for her to follow with the curling of his finger.

"Then we better get started."

* * *

**So there's chapter 6! Please let me know what you thought!  
**

**Special thanks to the following for their recent reviews: **_FallinAngelGirl_**, **_invisible reader_**_, _**_Riona Winters_**_, _**_ZabuzasGirl_**_, _**_ForeverACharmedOne_**_, _and **_Anna_**_._ **

**Musical Influences:**  
[1]_ In Full Bloom_, by Clint Mansell, "Stoker" OST  
[2]_ Stay_, by Marco Beltrami, "Underworld: Evolution" score  
[3]_ The Phoenix_, by Fall Out Boy, "Save Rock And Roll"

**To be honest, I can't really explain the last bit of musical influence there. I was just listening to that song a great deal when I wrote this chapter and the lines "I'm going to change you like a remix, then I'll raise you like a phoenix" for some reason made me think of Dracula recreating Afina. I guess that's why I considered it a "musical influence." **

**I recently completed the next three chapters (averaging at about 9 or 10 pages a piece) and am currently in the process of revisions. I also managed to crank out a few outlines for some additional chapters so I have a better idea of where this story is going and I feel really good about it so far. Hope nothing gets lost in translation! **

**Until next time! **

**-T**


	7. Metamorphosis

**Chapter 7: Metamorphosis**

_Volkov Palace, Budapest – September 1895 – two days before the fall equinox_

There had been a tension in the air ever since the Count's letter had arrived two weeks ago, and in the last couple of evenings, it had only gotten worse. Miruna, Agnar's wife and life-long companion for the last three-hundred and forty years, had been handling it with the utmost grace and calm, something Agnar himself wish he could mirror. He leaned back in his favorite leather chair beside a roaring fire, taking a sip of the blood of a drunk from a glass in an effort to calm his nerves.

Ever since Count Dracula's return, the notorious vampire had remained effectively under the radar for nearly six years, and Agnar couldn't shake the feeling that everything was about to change.

There was a soft knock at his door, followed by a lovely face peeking into the room.

"Mother wanted me to remind you that the Count will be arriving shortly. You may wish to come downstairs."

"It is about that time, isn't it?" he said with a sigh.

"You seem troubled, father."

"I _am_ troubled, my dear. When last I saw Count Dracula over five years ago, he was in such a state of defeat, that I never thought he'd leave those cursed Transylvanian mountains, and as much as I respect and admire the man, I was glad for it. But something has brought the Count out of hiding and I have a feeling that he'll be using our annual equinox masquerade as a platform for his return."

"Is that so bad?" his daughter inquired, making her way over to him and resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "As a species we have always flourished under the Count's hand. Perhaps he means to finish what he started and bring us out of the shadows."

"The last thing a man of that kind of power and influence wants after losing everything is to bring the rest of our kind out of the shadows, my dear. No, I fear anything he does from here on out will be for revenge, and he'll drag all of us into it, one way or another."

"I would not utter such things, dear husband, when the Count arrives," Miruna stated, suddenly standing in the doorway. "Such talk could be misconstrued as traitorous."

"The Count has no quarrel with me," Agnar insisted upon standing. "He's too busy being at war with the world and every living soul in it." He pulled his daughter into an embrace with one arm and placed an affectionate kiss on her forehead. "But I hope you are right, my dear. Indeed, I do."

As they made their way down toward the grand foyer, Miruna and Agnar began to discuss the final preparations for the masquerade ball that was to be held in two days, along with the list of confirmed attendees, and the room arrangements for their distinguished guest and his mysterious female companion.

In the past, when the Count visited Agnar and his family, any female companions he brought with him usually shared his room, or at least had an adjoining chamber. This was the first time in all of history where the Count had made explicit instructions to have the rooms be completely separate.

They were soon joined by their eldest son, Andrei, as well as a close friend of the family and member of the coven – Nicolæ. Nicolæ's girlfriend, the vampire Zsófia, was attached to his arm.

"Is it anyone we would know?" Andrei asked, in reference to the Count's unknown companion.

"No, I don't believe so."

"I heard she was a newborn."

"Is she a new bride?"

"If she was, why would he request separate chambers?"

"Even if she wasn't his bride, he wouldn't want separate chambers. He'd have us put them together and then convince her it was some kind of mistake."

Laughter followed.

"The poor woman. Whoever she is, she doesn't stand a chance."

"They've known each other for over a year, and from what I've heard, he hasn't made a single advance towards her."

"That is remarkable!"

"What's wrong with her?"

"We'll find out soon enough, I suppose."

"Is she _his_, then?"

"That's the strangest part! No one knows!"

"I wonder what she looks like."

"Or where she comes from."

"I heard she's an orphan."

"An orphan? What would the Count be doing with an orphan?"

"Maybe he's been resurrected one too many times."

More laughter ensued.

"That's very unlike the Count. Why would he sire a nobody and take the trouble of looking after them? That isn't like him at all!"

"Most irregular."

"Maybe he was lonely. The man did lose everything."

"I still can't believe his entire line is gone."

"And his brides! I do miss Marishka. Vigdís was devastated when she heard the news."

"And what about the Selkirk twins – Adnraste and Reunan? I remember when the rumors were coming out of Transylvania, and people were saying that Aleera had been killed by Anna Valerious!"

"Slanderous lies! Killed by a Valerious? What utter nonsense."

"She was very young, though."

"Adnraste had such high hopes for Aleera. It's tragic that their line has all but wasted away."

"How did Dragoş take the news of Verona's passing?"

"Not very well. He was still mourning the loss of Alrik, and then to receive news that another member of his bloodline had been destroyed by a member of the Order."

"Dracula should have ended the Valerious line ages ago. I told him as much, multiple times, but he wouldn't listen."

"Well, he's paid the price for that now."

"In a way, we all have."

"Indeed."

"I sincerely hope he's abandoned his ambitions of conquering the world. Connecting the bloodlines was controversial enough."

"Did his Doctor Frankenstein ever discover the means of doing that?"

"I hope not. I've said it before, and I'll say it again – as much as I respect the Count, I would not want to be blood-bound to that man, no matter what he offered me! His ambitions make him arrogant and careless."

"Master Agnar, a carriage has just arrived," a servant interrupted.

When Count Dracula's entranced was shortly thereafter announced, a hush fell over the family as they turned to see him standing in the doorway, alone. Dark storm clouds veiled a war of lightning outside giving the notorious vampire quite the entrance. Eyes soon drifted to the handsome and expensive-looking carriage in the driveway just outside, but no one else made an appearance and the doors were soon shut behind the Count.

Agnar was the first to acknowledge Dracula and he did so with his arms opened wide in welcome as he made his way over to his distinguished guest.

"Count! This is indeed an honor. Welcome to Volkov! It has been many years since we were graced with your presence," he exclaimed. The Count's stoic expression melted away into a charming smile.

"My dear Agnar! It has been too long, my friend," and the two shook hands with an act of warmness that would have fooled anyone. The tension between the two men was expertly guarded. "I would like to thank you for being so accommodating."

"It is no trouble, no trouble at all, my old friend. It pleases me that you have decided to leave those solitary mountains and reenter society. Your presence has been sorely missed."

"You are too kind."

"You, of course, remember my wife, Miruna," and Agnar motioned to his wife. The Count kissed her offered hand, everything about him full of charm and effortless grace. Miruna was a lovely woman. Though immortality had stopped the clock at age thirty-eight, she looked wonderful for her age, with her honey-suckled eyes and light brown hair pulled elegantly back.

"You look as enchanting as ever, my dear. Thank you for opening your home to us," and he bowed deeply.

"The pleasure is all ours, my lord. We hope you do make yourself at home. And your companion?" she inquired expectedly, but the Count never answered the last question.

He merely smiled and moved on to Agnar's eldest – Andrei. Andrei was the embodiment of everything a young man ought to be. Blessed to be forever twenty-three years of age, with hair and eyes similar to his mother's, he was accustomed to being a favorite among the ladies. He was naturally charming, attentive, and an exceptional fighter.

The Count was then presented to Dorina, Agnar and Miruna's only daughter, who looked a great deal more like her father than anything else. She was a beauty, eternally twenty years old, with eyes for the Count. He had taken advantage of her admiration on several pleasure-filled occasions in the past, and though both parties claimed that the interactions were merely a diversion to pass the time, for Dorina, she found it difficult to commit herself to any other man, for she was cursed to always compare the unlucky soul to the Count.

When Agnar finished making the introductions, they all looked at the Count in silent anticipation.

"I appear to be missing something," he said with a quizzical look in his eye. "Were you expecting something?"

There was a round of awkward chuckling, and then Agnar explained.

"You had mentioned in your letter that you were bringing a companion with you."

"Ah, yes. How could I have forgotten? Agnar, Miruna, I'd like to introduce you to my…." He paused for a moment, as if trying to think up a title for her. When the right one came to him, a look of pleasure softened his features and he held out his hands for the closed door. "My bellator." The footmen opened the double doors and standing in the doorway was a woman dressed meticulously in a stunning red taffeta gown with three-quarter length sleeves. The bodice was more like a sleeveless corset with the sleeves attached under the arms, barely hanging onto her shoulders. She had a long, plain black veil drawn over her face that floated dramatically in the wind.

Afina's entrance couldn't have been more perfect.

She was Dracula's masterpiece and she held herself with a pride and an elegance that was spellbinding.

As she began to make her way toward the Count, she reached up and gently pulled the veil from her face, offering it to one of the servants as she continued to walk. Everything about her screamed superiority – from her posture, the way she held her head, all the way down to the manner in which she walked. She was the female equivalent of Count Dracula in air and appearance and even the Count himself, had trouble staying focused.

Over a year of painstaking preparation and it was finally paying off. Afina had been a devoted and studious apprentice and in that moment, any anxiety he may have felt prior to their arrival had melted away. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments and had she fed recently, she would have blushed from the pride that shown in his eyes.

She extended her hand and took his offered one, allowing him to guide her toward the company where he presented her.

"Agnar, it gives me great pleasure to introduce to you, Afina, daughter of Alrik, the blood-niece of Dragoş."

"This is Alrik's daughter?" Agnar asked in disbelief. "We're talking about the same Alrik of the Áki line? The oldest…"

"The oldest of the bloodlines. Yes," Dracula finished for him.

"Are you certain of this?" Agnar inquired, not entirely disposed to believe such a proclamation.

"Utterly and completely," the Count assured him.

"I had heard the rumors that Alrik had fathered a living child, but I had no idea those rumors were true." He took a step towards her and then paused. "But I hear no heartbeat. You're no longer damphir, child.."

"No, I am not," Afina confirmed.

"Are you her sire?" he asked the Count.

"No. I found her shortly after she took to the transition. Whoever turned her must have done it by accident and left her for dead."

Nicolæ, who had been standing off to the side tensed up immediately.

"How terrible!" Dorina chimed in. "Can you not remember who it was?"

Afina's eyes found Nicolæ's gaze and she had to keep from smiling when she saw the look of horrified astonishment in the vampire's eyes.

"Alas, I do not," she lied with confidence. "But it does not matter. The Count has taken excellent care of me," and she took his arm and offered a charming smile. "And you have been most gracious to extend this invitation to me. I have heard nothing but the highest praise for your semi-annual equinox masquerade. What a wonderful way to usher in the fall!"

"Will this be your first masquerade ball?" Andrei asked.

She glanced at the Count expectedly for the briefest of moments and Agnar intervened.

"Forgive me, my dear. We are such terrible hosts for not properly introducing you. This is my son and my eldest – Andrei."

Afina offered a subtly flirtatious smile and offered her hand, which Andrei took without a moment's hesitation, gently pressing his lips to her knuckles.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. And in answer to your question, yes – this will be my first masque."

"You mean you've never been to one? Not even once?" Dorina chimed in with disbelief.

"My sister, Dorina," Andrei mentioned, offering Afina his arm, which she took, releasing the Count.

"I watched many from a distance when I was a little girl," Afina explained with a laugh in her voice. "But I've never attended one myself. When my mother learned of my father's passing, she stopped attending balls and parties altogether."

"How tragic!" Dorina took Afina's other arm and the siblings led her towards the parlor. The Count stayed behind with Agnar, watching on from a distance with a great deal of pleasure in his eyes as his protégé performed. He observed with silent enjoyment as Afina was introduced, unknowingly by the company, to her murderer, Nicolæ, and his girlfriend Zsófia. By the smile on her face, one would have never suspected the murderous hatred she felt for the man. It made the Count want to laugh aloud. She made it all appear so effortless. Yes, he had taught her well.

"How did you find her?" Agnar inquired, interrupting the Count's study.

"The Order sent her to me – unknowingly of course," he explained with great amusement. "Her late husband was a member of the Order, sent to sniff me out. She accompanied him in search of answers about who she truly was."

"Is she a true Áki?"

"She cannot be killed in the normal ways, if that's what you're implying. So yes, she is a true Áki."

"And a credit to Alrik," Agnar added. "If only he could see her now."

"Yes. She is so much like Alrik – so focused, yet passionate at the same time. She still struggles with parts of her humanity, though."

"That isn't always such a bad thing. And she's still a young vampire. She'll harden herself to it all eventually. We all do to varying degrees."

"I have noticed that she tends to excel when she surrenders to her bloodlust. She has quite the sadistic streak."

"Something she picked up from you, no doubt," Agnar said with a teasing grin.

"Her imagination is boundless. I remember being like that, once upon a time."

"You don't give yourself much credit, Count. Your methods of torture were legendary, even when you were a mortal."

"In this case, the student has surpassed the teacher," Vlad said with pride. "She can be quite voracious."

"How so?"

"She slaughtered an entire village within her first week after the transition – every last creature with a heartbeat – human and animal alike. By the time I found her, it looked like she had bathed herself in their blood. And her first successful kill after I taught her the essentials of the hunt was a vampire hunter."

"Extraordinary!"

"You should have seen her when she had first turned, Agnar. Tore a man's heart right out of his chest with her bare hand. I can't remember the last time I witnessed such abandon during a feeding. She was positively marvelous."

"She sounds more and more like her father by the minute!" The gentlemen watched as the remaining company exited the foyer, leaving the two of them alone. "How did she die?" he inquired in hushed tones, not wishing to be overheard.

"By a member of your coven, unfortunately," Dracula replied matter-of-factly. "A vampire hunter by the name of Isabella paid a visit to your son's estate in Transylvania and convinced them that Afina and her husband were also vampire hunters, sent to destroy me. Your son's loyalty does him credit, but a close confidant of his blatantly disobeyed my instructions to leave Afina alive. I had hoped to turn her myself, but my orders were deliberately ignored and I would like to know why."

"Do you know which confidant?" Agnar asked, genuinely concerned. "Despite my son's excellent sense of judgment, he can be a little careless when it comes to his friends."

"I have my suspicions, but if confirmed, I will not tolerate that kind of defiance."

"But Afina is alive – in a way – and everything is fine, Count. _I_ will not accept unnecessary bloodshed, not in my coven, and certainly not under my roof."

If this had been ten years ago when he had been at the peak of his power, Dracula would have snapped the man's neck, just to prove a point. But he wasn't at the peak of his power, and things had changed a great deal in the last decade. But he wasn't concerned. He had an ace or two up his sleeve, and though he was not the most patient of men, he did understand the virtue of waiting for the opportune moment.

"I completely understand, old friend," Dracula insisted with a smile. "However, if I uncover any acts or plans of treachery, bloodshed _will_ become a necessity, whether under your roof or any other. I promise you that."

"You will not find such disloyalty in my coven, Count."

"I sincerely hope not."

When Agnar and the Count joined the rest of the company in the parlor, Dracula immediately noticed an additional presence in the room. On the far end of the room, Afina was seated on a sofa with Andrei on her right and another man on her left whom they hadn't been introduced to earlier. Andrei was an attractive man in his own right, but the vampire on the other side of Afina was an Adonis. With a strong jaw, cheekbones you could cut yourself with, hypnotic green eyes, and hair that begged to be tousled by any obliging fingers, his face alone was the embodiment of perfection. As for the rest of him, well, he was nothing short of a Greek god. His interest in Afina was the first thing the Count noticed and the way the man's hand rested on her knee infuriated him.

"Lucas Craven," Dracula said with a disapproval he tried to mask in civility. "I had no idea you were here."

Craven looked over at the Count and a wicked grin crossed his face as he removed his hand from Afina's knee.

"Vlad! I thought I had heard your voice earlier! Welcome back to the land of the living… or, I suppose, the undead," he said, laughing at his own terrible joke. "I was just getting acquainted with this exquisite creature of yours."

Afina stood upon the Count's entrance and she made her way over to him, resting a hand on his shoulder as he poured a glass of blood which he offered to her first, but upon her refusal, he partook of himself.

"She is not mine," he corrected. "But she is travelling with me."

"Not yours? How fascinating!"

"If you'll excuse me, I believe I'll retire to my chambers. Andrei, would you be so kind?" Afina interrupted. The young man was more than happy to oblige and he escorted her out of the parlor after she bid the remaining company a good-evening.

When they were gone, Dorina, Agnar, and Miruna also excused themselves, leaving Nicolæ and Zsófia whispering in the corner, which meant Dracula was stuck conversing with Craven.

"So if she's not yours, what the devil are you doing with her?" Craven inquired, helping himself to a glass of blood as well before taking his seat again.

"I like to think of her as my ward," Vlad explained. "She's Alrik's daughter."

"That's what Andrei was saying. Funny how you always seem to find yourself drawn to that line, Vlad. How long has she been your 'ward?'" he asked sarcastically, not for one moment buying that the two of them weren't serious in some degree or another.

"Over a year now."

"Have you shared a bed with her, yet?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but no, I have not."

"I don't believe it!"

"She's not interested," Vlad explained, taking a seat in an armchair across from Craven. "Even when she was a mortal, she refused most of my advances."

"Perhaps you're losing your touch?"

"No. If I wanted her, I'd have her. And as lovely as she is, I've had finer women in my time. No, where Afina is concerned, I have no real interest. I have far more important things to occupy my time. And I'm not exactly in a hurry to tie myself down."

"Tie yourself down? When have you ever been faithful to _any_ woman?"

"Faithful – never. But I have been known to be a most devoted lover."

Craven laughed.

"I can't believe I'm hearing this! And from the man famous for seducing entire households in a single evening, no matter the gender or sexual orientation! I would have thought you'd have jumped at the opportunity to coerce such a lovely bird into submission."

"Yes, well, losing everything can put things into perspective for a person," he answered with mild disinterest. "You're welcome to have a go at her, if you wish. But I wouldn't advise it."

"And why ever not?"

"If she rejects your advances and you continue to persist, she may lose her temper."

"I like a woman with spirit."

"I'm certain you'll be singing a different tune when she tears out your tongue after emasculating you," he said with a dark amusement. "Besides, I thought you were still with Miss Nouveau?"

"Elizabeth loves joining me in my conquests. Spices things up, as I'm sure you recall – the debaucheries you and your brides indulged in put Elizabeth and I to shame!"

"How is my depraved protégé?" he asked with affection.

"She's doing exceptionally well."

"Will she be joining us for the masque?"

"She should be arriving some time late tomorrow evening."

"Well then, I look forward to seeing her again. Now, if you'll excuse me," he said upon standing, "I think I'll retire for the evening. The sun will be rising soon."

"But the sun has never bothered you, Vlad! And these drapes are heavy enough. Come! It's been ages!"

"Let's not pretend we like each other, Craven," Dracula said smoothly. "If I have to feign civility for another moment longer, you could find yourself meeting the morning sun, and I don't think I could bear explaining to Agnar why the charred remains of one of his guests was found impaled on the spire of the south wing." He smiled his most charming smile and then bowed. "Good evening, Lord Craven."

"Count Dracula," Craven returned with a civil nod of his head.

Having disrobed down to her corset, with her garters still holding up her stockings, Afina was gently draped her red dress over the back of a chair when she heard a knock at the door.

"Yes?" She pulled on a silk dressing gown to make herself more decent and tied the sash, just as the Count entered the room.

"May I come in?"

"Of course."

He shut the door behind him.

"How are you settling in? Do you have everything you need?"

"Everything is perfect," she assured him. "Miruna has excellent servants. By the time Andrei brought me up here, everything had been unpacked or laid out."

"I'm glad to hear it. And what of your… tools?" Their eyes both moved in the same direction, resting on a chest which had been placed at the foot of the bed.

"Still locked and secured."

"Good. And how are you faring?"

"Nicolæ recognizes me. Of that I'm certain."

"Did he say anything?"

"No, he made certain to stay as far away from me as possible," she said with a laugh.

"Does he suspect?"

"No, I don't think he does. He's certainly wary of me, though. But I think I can break him before the masque, or convince someone else to do it for me, if I like."

"I have no doubt of that," he smiled, taking a seat on the chaise lounge by the window. "What do you think of the family?"

"Agnar is a good man, and Miruna is the perfect hostess. Andrei is impeccably charming, but I'm getting the impression that much of his behavior is owned to the expectations placed upon him. I think if Queen Victoria and that sense of propriety that has infested the continent was no longer an obstacle, he'd have jumped Craven."

The Count roared with laughter, deeply amused at the image in his head of Andrei forcing himself of a very heterosexual Lucas Craven.

"I think you may be right about that," he finally said, still chuckling to himself. "And what did you think of the infamous Craven?"

"Infamous?" she teased, sitting beside him. "Is that what he is?"

"He and his companion, Elizabeth, are a notorious team, although she is much more fluid in her sexuality than he is."

"I don't doubt it. Craven is a very attractive man, I'll own to that. But he's much too sure of himself – not that confidence in a man is a bad thing. But his is an arrogance that is often associated with a false self-assurance, which can lead to an inability to take 'no' for an answer."

He caught onto her insinuation almost immediately.

"There _is_ a difference between seduction and rape, Afina."

"A very slim and delicate difference. The very word 'seduction' implies an initial resistance."

"And what if the woman – or man – is simply playing hard-to-get? Isn't it a basic and natural desire to be perused?"

"Yes. But I feel a mutual understanding and affection are to be preferred over a single evening of carnal delight."

"Share that single evening with me and you may leave it feeling very differently," he teased. She laughed, pushing him away lightly.

"I think I'll just live out the rest of my existence without that knowledge, thank you," she smiled.

"You and your superior sense of morality," he exhaled in teasing frustration. "Are you ever going to let it go?"

"I think I've relinquished a great deal of it in the last year," she defended, the slightest twinge of regret in her voice.

"You are a vampire, now, Afina. You are beholden to no one. Don't let your antiquated habits and mode of thinking stagnate your progress."

"I'm already a killer, Vlad. We can work on the depraved seductress another time," she replied archly. She stood suddenly as if to leave his side, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her back down onto the chaise so she was sitting beside him again.

"Now let's focus for five minutes," he insisted. She chuckled, trying to pry her hand out of his, but he held her steadfast. "Afina, I'm serious. Just five minutes." She relented and allowed him to hold her hand in both of his. "First and foremost, I need to remind you to be careful."

"Vlad…"

"No, I mean it. Agnar will not stand for you destroying a member of his coven under his own roof."

"Even if that someone is a traitor?"

"He'll need proof."

"I _am _the proof!" she insisted.

"But not proof enough."

"I didn't come all this way just to attend some insipid masquerade ball, Vlad. I've worked too hard and have waited too long. I want my revenge."

"And you'll have it. But you're going to need evidence of some other crime that is worth punishment by death."

"Isn't disobeying you enough?"

"It would have been six years ago, but I don't have the influence I once had. If we can find some other impediment and bring it to light before everyone to see, it could change things."

"Do you know of any other impediment?"

"I have reason to believe that Nicolæ may be in league with the Order."

"What?"

"Not directly. But vicariously through another vampire."

"What makes you say that?"

"Why do you think Isabella chose to go to this particular coven when she had been ordered to kill you? I told those vampires not to harm you, yet Nicolæ deliberately disregarded my orders. He knows that such an action is, or at least was, punishable by true death. Yet he did it anyway. A vampire only acts in defiance of his superiors when he feels safe enough to do so, which means he's expecting the protection of someone. If we can find some kind of physical evidence of his allegiance…"

"Then I can kill him, not only without repercussions, but your uncovering of this betrayal can put you back onto the path to power," she finished. "If we find this evidence," she continued after some thought, "do you think we should change up the plan to fully take advantage of this? You know – pardon the expression – milk it for all it's worth?"

"I was hoping you'd suggest such a thing."

"Or even better… do you still have those letters from the Vatican that you found on Raphael's body?"

"Yes."

"We could use those. If we can't find physical evidence, we can forge it."

"That is a brilliant idea. I can get my hands on a replica of the Order's seal in the city at first light while everyone sleeps."

"What about Zsófia? I don't see her taking kindly to a public execution. And according to Dorina, she and Nicolæ spend every moment together. She may be able to discredit any assertions we make."

"I'll take care of Zsófia. Come the masquerade ball, she'll be completely indifferent to him. She won't be an issue."

"Good."

A moment of comfortable silence passed between them before the Count finally decided to bid her good-night. But before he could reach the door, he paused for a moment and turned to face her.

"Afina?"

"Yes?"

"You were exceptional, this evening."

"Thank you."

"I mean it. I could not have been more proud of you. You have come a long way from the uncertain young woman I met over a year ago."

"Well," she began, making her way over to him, "you are an excellent teacher."

"And you are a superb student," he said with a smile. He lifted his hand, hesitantly at first, and tenderly caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers. "You please me, greatly, my dear," he whispered gently.

His fingertips hovered over her lips before his thumb gently grazed over her mouth, his hand holding the side of her face. With a year of built up sexual tension between them, coupled with seeing the fruits of all of his hard work standing before him, it was becoming more and more difficult for the Count to suppress his basic instincts. He was awash in emotion – pride, pleasure, and desire. It was arrogant to think so, but he felt that lying with her, even for a single evening, would be the greatest reward any woman could ask for. But he stopped himself before he could think that way any further. She was his equal, he reminded himself. He had promised to treat her thus, and a consummation of their relationship, in the most physically intimate sense, would, in a way, destroy that sense of equality – no matter how wonderful it felt.

But he lacked the strength and sense of restraint to do nothing. So he leaned forward and kissed her forehead reverently, resting his forehead against her own for an extended moment before murmuring, "good-night," and leaving the room without another word or look.

Afina stood in that same spot for several minutes with her eyes closed, replaying his words and the single kiss to her brow over and over and over again in her mind. His approval meant more than she cared to admit to herself, but his respect for her wishes to not cross over into the physically intimate realm meant even more. She was perfectly aware of the tension between them. She knew his reputation, knew his basest needs and instincts – she had witnessed them from afar, when he didn't know she was watching. And the fact that he respected her and even to some degree adored her enough to keep his word made Afina warm down to her toes, despite the fact that she hadn't fed in several days.

She would make him proud once again, she resolved as she climbed into the large bed with its feather-down comforter. She would be his greatest success, and when the evening of the masquerade came, all the vampire world would know that with her at Dracula's side, nothing could stop him. And then she drifted off to sleep just as the sun began to rise, dreams of blood and bended knees swimming in her head.

* * *

**My apologies for taking so long to update. Personal life has been... well, let's just avoid that topic altogether. I'm still not completely pleased with this chapter, but I was tired of sitting on it and needed to move on, so there you have it. I'm more keen to get to the masquerade chapter(s) anyway - as clichéd as a masquerade ball in a vampire story may be. I don't care. There are some clichés that I love just too much to avoid!  
**

**A huge thanks to those who reviewed, favorited, and followed in the recent week and a half since I last updated (you know who you are)! You are the reason I stick to writing this story! Your feedback has been wonderful and I always look forward to reading your reviews, as long or short as they may be. **

**Let me know what you thought of the chapter.  
**

**Note for the reader: For the non-Van Helsing aficionados out there (just as an FYI for future chapters), Volkov and Vilkova are two completely different palaces in this fictional realm of Budapest. Vilkova is the name of Dracula's summer palace (mentioned in the novelization of the film) and Volkov is of my own creation - just to avoid any confusion that may arise, because there will be references to both of these places in the next couple chapters. Actually, fun fact about Vilkova - there's actually a hotel in Prague (where the Budapest scenes were shot in the film) called the Vlkova Palace (so "Vilkova" without the "i"). And now you know a useless bit of Van Helsing trivia! Hooray!  
**

**Musical Influences:  
**[1]_ Fortress of Seduction_, by Two Steps From Hell, "Classics, Vol. 1"  
[2]_ Un Di Felice, Eterea_, performed by Anna Netrebko & Rolando Villazón, "Violetta - Arias And Duets From Verdi's La Traviata"


	8. The Prelude

**The following chapters were the product of a combination of too much opera, several period dramas, many sleepless nights, and a substantial amount of pomegranate juice (I can't really explain that last one). The original draft of this chapter was well over 20 pages in length and written almost two months ago. Managed to crank it out in a couple hours and had to sit on it for some time after before returning to do revisions. Ended up breaking it up into two-ish chapters and spent the last three weeks doing revisions. **

**As always, forgive the errors and rustiness you will undoubtedly find. I'll be the first to admit that this is nowhere near perfect, but there are definitely bits and pieces of this and the following chapter that I've grown emotionally attached to. **

**The musical influences for this chapter were absurd and I've done my best to include all of them. I also created a masquerade playlist - which I had way too much fun creating. Sadly, a good handful of the songs I included either aren't on YouTube or the version I wanted isn't there, but I tried to include them anyway so you have an idea. My original playlist is much longer, but the songs posted below are the ones I feel are worth mentioning. And yes, I left Hayley Westenra's "Dark Waltz" out of the playlist on purpose because I wanted to focus on strictly instrumental music (as soon as someone creates such a version, I'll definitely include it).  
**

* * *

**Chapter 8: The Prelude**

The bedroom grew darker as the sun continued to set. The rest of the house was slowly beginning to wake, but all through the day, Afina had lied silent and motionless on top of her bed, wide-awake and still dressed in her underthings, having never fully undressed that morning as she had become too distracted listening to the whispered conversations of the Count. She could hear him now in the room down the hall in the throes of passion with the woman who had joined him in his chambers before the dawn earlier in the day, and now their sighs and groans of delirious ecstasy had been perceived by her very acute hearing.

The woman was Zsófia – Nicolæ's Zsófia. When the Count had assured Afina that he would take care of the woman, she had anticipated a seduction, but had no idea how quickly it would transpire. Either the woman had been an easy conquest, or he really was _that_ good. Afina could recall the feigned surprise in the Count's voice when the woman had snuck into his chambers; his moment of hesitation when she had flung herself into his arms.

It mostly amused Afina, Zsófia's eagerness to detach herself from Nicolæ. The man had proven to be a disappointment to the female and she was eager to become an addition to Count Dracula's long list of successful conquests – as if it were some kind of honor. But upon an entire day's worth of contemplation, Afina had become aware of the sliver of jealousy buried deep in her heart – nothing substantial; just a hair, but a hair nonetheless.

It hadn't been the first time she had witnessed Vlad with another woman, and she knew it would not be the last time she would find him thus. It was in his nature. He was a man, after all, and a voracious lover. But over their last year together, his frivolity had started to bother her in a way that surprised Afina. She was physically attracted to him – that much had been evident upon their first meeting when she had still been human; but it had never been anything beyond that.

But now, for the first time ever, she was second guessing herself.

He had devoted an entire year to her, preparing her for what was coming this evening, but in an unanticipated way it had become so much more than that. There was a bond between them, something she could not ignore or suppress, no matter how hard she tried. She had noticed the pull toward him when they had first met, but that pull was so much stronger now. She knew his conquests meant nothing; that this fling with Zsófia meant nothing to either party – all were very aware of how he made his way through women in a way that would make the likes of Casanova, Don Juan, and even the Marquis de Sade look like amateurs.

Where those women really unbothered by that fact? Afina couldn't seem to figure out if it was the sexual escapades that bothered her, or perhaps it was the symbolic sense of closeness that came with that level of intimacy – and how all of it meant nothing to him. Even though he had drilled into her the vital need to dispel all sense of morality and virtue; that had been the hardest lesson of all – one she was still in the process of learning and relearning. Try as she might, Afina could never truly lose herself to her new nature – as tempting as that option was. She was too disciplined, too deeply rooted in how she had been brought up, and too wise to act contrary to what she knew from personal experience – that all actions had consequences. Perhaps it would become easier over time, but even after a year, with the strong attraction she felt towards Count Dracula, she had resolved never to act on those natural instincts unless it meant something.

Not that it ever would.

The Count had kept his word so far. He had made no real advances toward her – not once in the entire year they were together. They would flirt, but it was never anything more than that. He had been an excellent teacher, professional, yet personable. He had treated her like an equal, just as he had promised, and that sense of equality had only strengthened the bond that already existed between them. It had been enough for Afina in the past – why was that suddenly changing? Why the sudden need for something more, and from _him_ of all people?

Perhaps it was because some small and secret part of her felt more for him than affection, and because he had come to mean so much to her, maybe that secret part of her hoped he felt the same. It was ridiculous of course – she knew that the moment she thought it. Count Dracula – fall in love with _her_? The notion was absurd. She knew it, but she still wanted it. And she'd never admit that to herself, aloud or otherwise. It was a dangerous mode of thought, one she struggled to avoid.

Love would ruin everything.

As the sun slipped behind the horizon, the remnants of light retreating behind the mountains as the darkness spread through the sky, she finally moved, making her way over to the gramophone Agnar had lent her. The record that soon began to play was selections from Verdi's _La Trovatore_ – specifically the final song – the quartet _Prima che d'altri vivere_. The music drowned out any other noise that she would have otherwise heard, filling her with an elegant kind of melancholy, still torn between her warring halves.

_Prima che d'altri vivere io volli tua morir!_ – Rather than live as another's, I want to die yours!

The soprano's voice haunted Afina as she stood by the window, watching the conclusion of the sunset. So engrossed in the music and in her own conflicting thoughts, she never heard Andrei enter her room until he called her name at the closing of the song.

She excused herself, apologizing for her moment of distraction and her indecency of dress, but he merely smiled, assuring her that it was no bother, and he offered her a dressing gown.

"You are very lovely creature, Afina," he commented as she pulled the robe on. She smiled that calculatingly shy smile of hers and tied off the sash, thanking him for the compliment. "You wished to see me?"

"I did. Thank you for being so punctual. I wished to discuss something with you before the rest of the house awoke." She turned the music back on to drown out their conversation so they could not be overheard. "I have not been fully honest with you and your family, Andrei," she began, taking a seat by the fireplace and motioning for him to take the chair opposite her. "I lied to you when I said I could not remember who was it that killed me."

"So you do remember after all?"

"Yes."

"I have not been so fully honest with you, either," he added. "It took me a while, but when I noticed how distant Nicolæ had become after your arrival two days ago, I realized who you were."

"Then you realize what my connection to Nicolæ is? Why I am here?"

"I do. And as sorry as I am for that night, that my friend disobeyed the Count, I cannot condone your revenge."

"Neither can your father," she noted. "But the situation has changed."

"How so?"

"I never really wanted to kill Nicolæ," she lied with expertise. "I am naturally angry for what he did, but I forgive him for murdering me. What I truly wanted was revenge for the sake of my deceased husband. Nicolæ's use of my wounded husband as bait was low, even if it is in the nature of a vampire to be cruel and sadistic, especially when in the throes of the hunt. And when the Count had informed me that your excellent father did not condone my revenge, I was prepared to let it go, as much as Nicolæ's actions disturbed me."

"I feel like there should be a 'but' at the end of that sentence," Andrei pointed out with an uncomfortable smile.

"You're right, there is." She paused for dramatic effect, making it appear like she was struggling with something internally before continuing. "Andrei, I hesitate to tell you this. I know Nicolæ is your friend, and if it was anyone else, I would stay out of this and mind my own business, but you and your family have been so kind to me these last few days. Your father is an excellent man, and your mother has been such a gracious hostess. And you and your sister have become such dear friends to me, I – I cannot stay silent. Not when you're in danger."

"In danger?"

"I stumbled upon these last night. They were hidden in a book I had noticed Nicolæ reading in your library. I was curious to see what book he had been reading and upon opening it…" She revealed a small handful of letters from a box on the small table beside her chair and she handed them to Andrei. "The seal belongs to the Holy Order," she explained. "The letters are all addressed to Nicolæ. Apparently he feels remorse for his existence as a vampire and in hope of salvation, he had agreed to destroy an entire vampire family in the name of God in exchange for forgiveness from the church. That family… is yours."

Andrei read the letters in absolute silence and Afina watched him closely as his expression changed from doubt to surprise, to disappointment, and then to anger.

"How do I know these aren't forged?" he finally asked her.

"You don't," she answered truthfully. "But I give you my word that if they are, it was not by my hand." That much was true. The forged letters from the Count that she had originally planned on using were now ash in the fireplace. When she had discovered legitimate and honest proof of Nicolæ's treachery, she had been secretly relieved that she wouldn't have to lie in order to have her revenge. "Before I died, I worked with the Order," she confided suddenly. "I know that seal anywhere, the handwriting as well. It may be signed by Cardinal Jinette, but it was written by his scribe, a friar. If we had more time, I could give you more evidence, but we don't have that luxury."

"Yes, I see in this most recent letter that Nicolæ plans to act out tonight at the ball by murdering my family, starting with my sister, Dorina."

"We cannot let that happen, Andrei," she insisted, reaching forward and placing her hand on his in an urgency that was almost real. "Let me help. I want revenge on this man more than you could possibly imagine. I loved my husband. I _loved_ him, despite his faults, despite our struggles. Nicolæ killed me, taking the chance of me coming back from the dead as a vampire. He knew I'd smell blood from miles away. He knew Henric had been injured, knew that I would find him. He _knew_ that I wouldn't be able to resist feeding on him. I killed him, Andrei. I killed my husband. I not only fed on him, I destroyed him. His blood is still on my hands and his ghost haunts me. That was Nicolæ's doing, his design. He took _everything_ from me."

"And now he wants to take everything from my family," Andrei whispered in disappointment. "My own friend. I was the one who tried to pull him off of you. I told him to leave you be, but he wouldn't listen. I- I had no idea that he had done that to your husband, Afina. You must know that."

"Then prove it to me," she insisted. "Give me this chance to avenge not only my husband, but the family he wants to take from you."

Andrei stood.

There was a fury in his eyes, but his face was all calm.

"Do whatever you want to him," Andrei said in hushed tones. "But you must promise me one thing."

"Anything, my Lord," she said with a well-practiced bow of her head in a very convincing act of submission.

"Make it hurt."

"Oh, I assure you, I shall," she said, standing before him. "But it will require some assistance…"

The two spoke at length for nearly a half hour before Andrei excused himself from the room, eager to inform his sister, Dorina, of the plan and all that had transpired. As she stood in her doorway, watching Andrei quickly make his way down the hall, Zsófia was just exiting the Count's chambers. Vlad and Afina made eye contact for the briefest of moments. They said nothing, but the look was enough to assure both that the plan was in motion.

...

The music coming from the orchestra swelled with a passion that moved every guest. The ballroom glittered in a decadence that could easily take one's breath away. On the dance floor was a sea of bodies, all moving to the rhythm of a waltz. Each pairing moved with unnatural grace; each step perfection, each twirl captivating, the gowns and tuxes, the costumes and masks, all creating a vibrant wave of color that seemed to bleed in fluid swirls, like the night sky in Van Gogh's "Starry Night."

Vlad stood alone on the edge of the room, watching with a deep amusement as Zsófia abandoned Nicolæ to dance with Lord Craven, not even attempting to hide her disinterest in her former flame. He had done his job and had done it exceptionally well, if he did say so himself. Convincing Zsófia that she deserved infinitely better than Nicolæ was a much simpler task than he had anticipated. She barely put up any kind of resistance to the notion and in his "liberating" her, she had become so eager to try out as many men as she possibly could to see what she had been missing out on. The fact that her first choice was Lucas Craven made the Count want to burst out laughing.

Zsófia was so eager and Craven so depraved, the two almost seemed destined for one another. A job well done, indeed.

He took another scan about the room, removing his mask momentarily in an effort to see better. There was still no sign of Afina, or even Andrei and Dorina. If he had interpreted what he had seen earlier this evening, he knew Afina had done her job. He almost couldn't believe that she had managed to "sell" those forged letters from the Order. He couldn't wait to hear how she had done it. But what was taking her so long?

"You seem to be looking for someone, Count," a familiar voice said from behind. He turned to see a woman dressed in a luscious scarlet gown. Her hair was a light brown, pulled up in an elegant manner, exposing her long, flawless neck. The woman's mask was on a stick and she moved it away from her face, revealing her identity.

"Elizabeth Nouveau. I was wondering when you'd arrive," he exclaimed with an ample amount of charm and he took her offered hand and pressed a lingering kiss on her knuckles before tendering running his thumb over the top of her hand. "You look positively sinful," he husked and he watched as the woman blushed just slightly.

"Red has always looked best on me," she replied with a wicked smile. "How are you, Vladislaus? It's been an age!"

"It has, hasn't it?"

"I never did get the opportunity to express my condolences for your loss," she began, taking his arm, not even waiting for him to offer it to her, and the two began to circle the room. "You must be so lonely."

"Quite the contrary, I assure you."

"Oh? Now that is a surprise. No one has seen you in over five years!"

"No one of your acquaintance."

"Does anyone else really matter?" she said with a laugh. "Lucas was telling me about that exquisite little pet of yours. He's quite taken with her. Is that who he's dancing with now?"

"No. That is Zsófia, a guest of Agnar's."

Miss Nouveau licked her lips.

"She looks delicious. Such an eager little thing. Have you had her?"

"Yes."

"Recently?"

"Just a few hours ago."

"And?"

"I'd recommend having Craven warm her up first before _you_ try anything."

"Darling, that won't be necessary. I haven't met a single man or woman alive that could say 'no' to me. Not even you."

"Actually, my dear, where you and I are concerned, it was the other way around," he corrected, pulling her into a dance. "In fact, if I recall correctly, it was I who _liberated_ you."

"It was, wasn't it?" she said with a reminiscent sigh. "Where was that?"

"Venice 1567. I believe I introduced you to…"

"Veronica Franco. That's right! What a summer that was. The things you did to me."

"Seems I've created a monster," he said with a dark chuckle.

The two continued to reminisce until the song ended. He then escorted her over to Craven.

"But I see I have lost you once again," he heard Elizabeth say. "You are very distracted this evening, Count."

"Not distracted. Just wondering what's keeping her," he said mostly to himself.

"Is Afina not down yet?" Craven inquired, joining in on the conversation.

"I have yet to meet this increasingly mysterious Afina," Elizabeth explained with a hint of jealous perturbation in her voice as she took Craven's arm. "And I've never seen you so distracted, Vladislaus. I swear, the entire time we danced, my dear, his eyes were always flashing back to the stairs." The two began to laugh but with a single look from the Count, that laughter quickly died in their throats and their expressions tensed with apprehension. With a dangerous look in his eyes and an evident shortness of temper, Dracula excused himself and proceeded to circle the room again.

He was growing impatient. She should have been down here by now. What was taking so long? He was becoming weary of the idle conversations, the forced civility, and the sense of obligation he was feeling from many of Agnar's guests. There was a time when all of them would have cowered at his feet, when he had been treated with the utmost respect and cordiality, when the noblest of them would have trembled in fear and reverence. Now… he was just _one_ of them.

No, not even that.

He was beneath them. They had managed to "out-live" him, in a sense. And in the Count's mind, it was because of him that many of their friends, his entire bloodline, had been destroyed. With every passing dance, the Count felt more and more like some kind of pariah and it unsettled him greatly.

He knew who his true "friends" were – they were the ones that visited him shortly after his resurrection and only a small handful of the faces in this sea of undead were truly loyal. The rest of them – his blood boiled at the thought. Their insolence, their sense of disregard for him, _him_! The most notorious of vampires! The most powerful man on earth!

They would regret this night, the night they brushed him off and feigned civility.

He would have his vengeance.

He would reclaim his power, that same power he had had six years ago, and more so. He would give them the ruler their wretched existences deserved. Every knee would bow. Every tongue would sing his praises. If tonight went according to plan, he would be well on his way to becoming not just their king, but their God. And the Order would be helpless to stop him.

He swore it in that instance, alone, yet surrounded by a couple hundred oblivious vampires. He would make them pay for their lack of true allegiance, the allegiance he felt was his right to have. His thoughts immediately turned to Afina and the last night of her mortal life, the things she said to him. She – as a mere human, understood who he was, what he was. She had revered him. In many ways, in death she still did revere him.

He couldn't help but smile at the thought of her. She was so loyal, obedient without being a doormat. She was the only woman he could think of that he had ever viewed as an equal – and it wasn't just because he had sworn to treat her like one. She had earned it in the last year. In small ways, she had proven herself to him, time and time again. She was going to prove herself to him once more this evening – he could feel it in his bones.

He suddenly felt a quickening in his blood as he noted her presence in the room. As if his eyes knew exactly where to go, he turned his head to look behind him, and at the top of the stairs stood Afina – his bellator.

She was dressed in a stunning strapless gown. The bodice was black, with intricate gold designs embroidered into the material and the skirted portion was made of several layers of black feathered tulle that flowed elegantly down to the floor, covering her feet. Her hair was pulled back and up, the mass of curls pinned and twisted, leaving small wisps of hair to caress her cheek and the side of her neck in a way that was almost tantalizing. Her mask was a piece of black lace that was simple and understated, but the way she wore it made her look dark and mysterious.

She was on Andrei's left arm, and the woman on his right appeared to be Dorina, who was in a gorgeous midnight blue ball gown, embellished with silver thread designs and encrusted in diamonds. She almost looked like the night sky. Both women looked magnificent on Andrei's arms – the man himself dressed to perfection, and he escorted both ladies down the stairs with a grace that was almost unsettling.

The three met Count Dracula at the bottom of the stairs, the siblings bowing deeply in greeting before Afina took his arm and released Andrei's. Thoroughly pleased by the sincere sense of respect and admiration they felt for him, Dracula allowed himself to smile.

"Forgive us for our tardiness in delivering your companion," Andrei began. "We wanted to make sure that everything was in place."

From the look Afina gave the Count, it was clear to Dracula that the siblings were in on the plan and this pleased him immensely.

"It is quite alright. She was worth the wait," he said, not looking to see his ward's reaction. He offered his hand to Dorina, who accepted the advance, and he kissed her hand sweetly. "My dear Dorina, you look positively superb."

The lady blushed behind her mask and bowed her head in acknowledgment.

"Now, if you two will excuse me," Andrei interrupted gently, "I'm going to dance with my sister before all the men in Budapest monopolize her for the evening." The two then made their way onto the dance floor and were soon lost in the sea of dancers. After watching them for a moment or two, Dracula finally turned to Afina.

"Shall we?" he inquired, offering his hand to her. She nodded and took his hand, surrendering to the music and allowing him to pull her into the dance.

Afina drowned in the music, her senses overcome with it all – the decadence of the ball, the sea of swirling figures around her, all dressed in dark colors. And for the briefest of moments, she lost herself in the arms of the Count as he held her close, leading her through that fast-paced dance with an expertise that – despite their many lessons – still took her breath away. She was almost embarrassed at how captivated she was by him – in his black and gold costume and cape, his dark blue eyes fixed on her and her alone as they danced. It was like a dream – a fantastical, romantic dream that she knew was clichéd and even mildly ridiculous, but she didn't care.

The anticipation of what was to come was almost too much to bear and the fact that she was in the arms of the man who had made it all possible left her feeling heady in the best way possible. Her months of agonizing practice was also paying off. She was able to keep up with his quick and precise movements with relative ease, her lines utter perfection. She was so proud of herself, pleased that she was no longer stepping on his feet or counting the rhythm in her head. She didn't need to – she felt the music, the quickness of the strings, a dance that seemed to go on forever. She was the perfect dancing partner for him. Anyone could see that.

"I assume everything is under control," he finally said, breaking the silence between them.

"It is."

"How did you sell it?"

"I didn't need to. I found proof of my own," she replied.

"Really?"

"Yes. It would appear he's a traitor after all," Afina explained, referring to Nicolæ. She leaned in close. "Nicolæ is in league with the Order, as you had suspected. In exchange for a full pardon from the church, he's agreed to kill Agnar and his family before the night is out," she whispered in his ear, her lips occasionally brushing against the lobe on accident as they moved. The sensation of her lips coming in contact with his skin sent a strong wave of pleasure through him, one he desperately tried to hide. She was so close to him, her lovely female form pressed against him, the scent of her perfumed skin and hair overwhelming him in a way that was deliciously dangerous. It took everything in him to remain focused.

"And you told Andrei?" he asked in an almost heady sigh. He prayed Afina hadn't noticed.

"I showed him the letters I found. He's told Dorina. They're going to help me lure Nicolæ away from the masque and I'll take care of him in a dungeon below."

"You'll _take care_ of him?" Dracula inquired. "I'm surprised Andrei agreed to those terms."

"He knows what Nicolæ is to me. Besides, I can be very persuasive. You taught me that."

"Yes I did," he said with a wicked grin as she pulled away so they could dance normally again. "How will you do it?"

"_Slowly_."

The way she said the word sent his skin crawling as the wickedest thoughts danced around in his mind like a scarlet silk scarf smoothing sensually over one's skin.

"I would love to watch you work," he suddenly confessed unexpectedly. The admission took them both a bit by surprise, but not in an unpleasant way.

"Would you really?" she asked before they switched partners with another couple. When she was back in his arms, he pulled her close to him and looked directly into her eyes.

"_Yes_."

Afina felt electricity pass through her body at the feeling of his hand on her back, half of his hand resting on her skin. He spun her around once about half-way and lingered behind her for several long moments. The skin on her neck and shoulders crawled as she felt his fingertips graze just slightly along that line that led from one shoulder to the other before he resumed the position in front of her. She couldn't decide if it was the music, this city, or just being around other vampires that seemed to awaken this sexual longing in her, but it was becoming quite the task to master it, especially with the way he was looking at her. The dance soon ended and she was almost sorry that it had. Interrupting the spell between them, Afina managed to break his gaze as she turned with the others to applaud the orchestra.

"Come," she heard the Count whisper in her ear. "There is someone I think you would like to meet."

She took his offered arm and allowed him to lead her off the dance floor and over to a man dressed in a black tux with a beautifully embroidered black and red waistcoat beneath the jacket. His hair – at least in his youth – had probably been a dark blonde, perhaps light brown, but the luster of the color was dulled slightly by the gray highlights of age. His eye-lashes were very light, making it appear from a distance that he had none at all, but she liked the look of his face. It was strong and full of authority, with a softness of expression that she admired. The stranger was watching her closely as they approached and that gaze of his only left her when the Count spoke.

"Good evening, Lucian."

"Vladislaus, my old friend," the man replied with a smile and he bowed his head before offering his hand, which the Count shook. "It is always a pleasure to see you. How are you this evening? I'm delighted to see you have finally emerged from the mountains to grace us with your presence."

"I noticed Dragoş could not make it here this evening."

"Yes. You know how he feels about Agnar's gatherings," Lucian explained, glancing over at Afina briefly before returning his attention to the Count. "He always preferred your parties, actually. Commanded that if I saw you again to persuade you to host the All Hallow's Eve ball in a couple of months, like you used to." He turned to Afina. "Nothing compares. The last ball I attended before that vampire hunter showed up six years ago was one the Count put on – a summer solstice gathering. It was exquisite. He invited French nobility to the masquerade for his guests to hunt – as a game. Incredibly macabre and clever. It was the subject of much gossip for months after!"

"Did you really?" Afina asked Dracula. "You invited mortals to a vampire gathering?"

"He always did," Lucian clarified. "It was quite controversial and always a huge success amongst the guests. The blood was always fresh and high quality."

"Perhaps I'll have to throw another party."

"Yes! To celebrate your return," and he raised his glass of blood in the air to toast the notion. "The vampires have grown weak and spoilt since your disappearance from society. I've always said that you were the greatest thing to ever happen to our species, Vladislaus. I hope you know that you will always have my support and the support of the Áki bloodline."

"I am grateful to you, old friend," Vlad replied, truly moved by his loyalty. Afina had also been impressed by it. "I'd like to introduce you to someone that may be of interest to you, as well as Dragoş and the remaining Áki line. May I present to you Afina– the blood daughter of the late Alrik, brother of Dragoş."

Lucian's expression was one of disbelief.

"Are you certain?" he asked the Count. When Dracula confirmed, Lucian bowed deeply to Afina, an action that took her and several onlookers by surprise. "My lady," he said, kissing her hand with a moving amount of reverence. He held that hand in both of his for several long moments and Afina watched as this strong and charming man struggled to compose himself. "I thought I recognized you. You look so much like your father, my dear." He quickly turned to Dracula. "How on earth did you find her?"

"I found him, actually," Afina explained.

"Of course you did. Alrik and Vlad were always the closest of friends. I had heard that he had fathered a damphir, but the Holy Order is usually very good about killing us off before we have the chance to reach adulthood."

"Were you a damphir too?"

"I was. Your father was the one that saved me from the order and turned me into a vampire, over seven-hundred years ago. He was also my mentor and dearest friend for the many years after. I was deeply saddened to hear of his death. He was the best of men. I wish you could have known him."

"As do I."

"I don't know how much you know about your lineage, child, but you come from a long, prestigious line of Nordic kings, queens, warriors. Your ancestry is most impressive. Your mother had French and Spanish blood, am I correct?"

"Yes, my grandfather was French and my grandmother was Spanish, both lines with noble blood."

"And what excellent blood you must have," he pointed out. "Yes, I can see your mother's grace in you. I had the opportunity to meet Emelina when she and your father were in Italy together. She was an exquisite creature. You have much of her in you as well."

"You flatter me, sir."

"I'm not one for flattery, Afina. I only speak the truth," he assured her.

Lucian was still holding Afina's hand in both of his, as though he were fearful to let her go. He shook her hand once, smiling graciously before kissing it one last time, and then finally releasing her.

"Dragoş, your uncle, will be so pleased to hear that his niece lives. He was devastated by the death of your father and to know that a part of him still lives in you – he will be beyond words. I must tell him immediately. How long will you be in Budapest?"

"A couple of weeks at the very least," Vlad replied. "If we go elsewhere, we'll be certain to send word to you immediately."

"I would greatly appreciate that. If you'll excuse me, I must go to him and tell him the news myself. It was a pleasure meeting you, Afina." He bowed deeply and then shook the Count's hand before excusing himself. Afina watched Lucian exit the room and a strange sense of weightlessness overcame her. She had a family – yes, they were easily several centuries older, but she had a family. The idea moved her unexpectedly and she found herself gripping the Count's arm tightly so she wouldn't collapse from the shock.

"Are you alright?" Dracula asked her.

"I am," she answered sincerely, smiling sweetly at him, suddenly so grateful that she could say that so truthfully and for the first time in what felt like an age. She took his hand suddenly and kissed his open palm with a fervor and reverence that took him aback. The smile on her face was one he had never seen before and he had been the one to put it there. She was positively radiant and he could feel the ice in his veins melting. She gently touched the side of his face and continued to smile. "Thank you," she whispered. The sincerity in her voice moved him and it left him speechless for several seconds.

He wasn't entirely certain how to react; no one had ever been so genuinely sincere or grateful to him before.

"For introducing you to Lucian? You're welcome – but if you're going to start behaving like this every time I introduce you to a family member, we're going to have to have a talk," he teased. "I can't wait to see how you react when you meet Dragoş."

"I may have to kiss you when that happens," she laughed. Before he could offer a witty and suggestive comeback, Andrei suddenly caught their attention from across the ballroom. He motioned to the stairs and Vlad and Afina turned to see Dorina leading Nicolæ toward the exit.

The time had come.

"I guess that will have to wait then," he replied. Afina's expression had grown serious as she continued to watch Nicolæ, her eyes not leaving him for a single moment. Dracula stood behind her, holding her arms in his hands his face resting gently beside her own as both of them watched the unsuspecting Nicolæ. Dorina was doing an exceptional job flirting with him, using her feminine wiles to ease him into a false sense of security. Afina's eyes had started to glow that electrified blue and Dracula could see the tips of her fangs peaking behind her rouged lips. She was all hunter now, as a year-long's lust for revenge was finally allowed its release. Still holding her upper arms in his hands, he kissed her bare shoulder gently before whispering in her ear.

"Make me proud."

* * *

_**Musical Influences: **_  
[1]_ Prima che d'altri vivere_, performed by Iano Tamar, Carl Tanner, Zeljko Lučić, and Marianne Cornetti, "Verdi – Il Trovatore"  
[2] _Grande Masquerade_, by Nox Arcana, "Transylvania"

**_Masquerade Playlist_ (link to YouTube playlist on my profile page - I had _way_ too much fun creating this and continue to hunt for and add new music constantly. Here's where it's at thus far):**  
_Ball Fanfare_, by Alan Silvestri, "Van Helsing (Complete Original Motion Picture Score)"_  
Missing Letters_, by Two Steps From Hell, "Illumina"  
_Dance for Me Wallis_, by Abel Korzeniowski, "W.E." OST  
_Devi's Waltz_, by Bob & Barn, "Primal" game score  
_The Brides_, by Wojciech Kilar, "Bram Stoker's Dracula" OST  
_All Hallow's Eve Ball_, by Alan Silvestri, "Van Helsing" OST  
_Van Helsing Theme_, by Tom Zehnder, "Van Helsing" game score **(*)**  
_Waltz of the Willows_, by Two Steps From Hell, "The Devil Wears Nada"  
_Danse Macabre_, performed by Angèle Dubeau & La Pietà, "Infernal Violins"  
_Beautiful_, by Apocalyptica, "7th Symphony"  
_Keep Your Wig On_, by James Shearman & Nick Ingman, "Mansfield Park" OST  
_Vito's Waltz_, by Nino Rota, performed by New 101 Strings Orchestra, "Strictly Ballroom Series: Strictly Slow Waltz"  
_Misa No Uta (Orchestral Version)_, by Hirano Yoshihisa, "Death Note III" OST  
_Minuet from "Water Music", G.F. Handel_, performed by Four Voices String Quartet, "Lifescapes: Relaxing Classical"  
_Waltz No. 2_, performed by André Rieu, "Valses"  
_Vienna Blood Waltz, Op. 354_, performed by André Rieu, "Voices of Spring"  
_Waltz, Masquerade_, composed by Adam Khachaturian  
_Romanian Folkdances: Jocul cu bâtá_, performed by Angèle Dubeau & La Pietà, "Let's Dance" **(*)**  
_Santiago's Watlz_, by Elliot Goldenthal, "Interview With A Vampire" OST  
_Les Beautés Du Diable_, performed by Angèle Dubeau & La Pietà, "Infernal Violins"  
_Hungarian Song and Dance_, performed by Zoltan and His Gypsy Ensemble, "Gypsy Music from Hungary and Romania" **(*)**  
_Dark Eyes_, performed by Calvin Dyck, "The Dancing Violin" **(*)**  
_The Chairman's Waltz_, by John Williams, Yo-Yo Ma, and Itzhak Perlman, "Memoirs Of A Geisha" OST  
_Swan Lake, Ballet Suit, Op. 20: Waltz_, performed by North German Symphony Orchestra, "The 99 Most Essential Tchaikovsky Masterpieces"  
_German Dance No. 10 in D Major, _by The Isobel Griffiths Ensemble, "The Duchess" OST  
_Symphony No. 7 in A Major, Op. 92: II. Allegretto (excerpt),_ London Symphony Orchestra & Sir George Solti, "Immortal Beloved (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)"  
_Coronation Waltz_, performed by the Mancini Pops Orchestra, "The Ballroom Mix 3" **(*)**  
_Love Dance_, by Cirque Du Soleil, "Ká"

**(*) __****no**t included in YouTube playlist


	9. The Masque of Death

**Screw it. I'll just post this now instead of waiting until Friday like I had originally planned. Here's the rest of the masquerade chapter. You're welcome! - As always, please excuse the errors you may find within. And, of course, reviews would be most appreciated.  
**

**REMINDER: This story is rated M for violence and gore (and now for sexual situations/dialogue - nothing too scandalous, I promise). **

* * *

**Chapter 9: The Masque of Death**

Nicolæ's neck throbbed as he awoke groggily. He felt weak, drained even, and when he went to hold his head with his hand, he soon discovered that he could not move. Consciousness was quickly returning to him as his neck continued to heal. He couldn't recall much. He remembered following the tempting Dorina down a dark hall. She wanted him. He could still see the lust in her eyes when she had grabbed his hand and led him away from the party. He was still upset over Zsófia's betrayal, but when his best friend's sister threw herself at him, how could he resist? He had wanted her for an age and just when he thought he was over her, when he had prepared himself to destroy this family and obtain clemency from the Order, she was suddenly at his mercy. It had been too good to be true. He could still feel her kisses on his lips, her hand boldly between his legs, could hear each heady breath that escaped her lips, and just before he could open the door behind her to have his way with her before the deed had to be done, someone had come up from behind and snapped his neck.

It had all happened so quickly, and now he was left disorientated, and shirtless for that matter, strapped to a table in a dark room. His vampire sight didn't make it any easier to see. From what he could tell, he was underground – underneath Volkov perhaps? He could hear the orchestra and the guests above him, though he had to strain himself to hear it.

"What the devil?" he exclaimed, struggling against his restraints before hissing in pain as he quickly became aware of numerous sharp points digging into his flesh. "Who the – somebody get me out of here!"

"No one can hear you," a familiar feminine voice said in the shadows. "The room is soundproof and we're a good fifty feet or so underground."

He knew that voice, and that recognition sent a chill down his spine.

"No…" he whispered in horror, struggling harder against the restraints, even though it was incredibly painful to do so. He could feel the sharp spikes digging deeper into his flesh with each tug. "No – no please."

A match struck the wall, the flame held to the wick of a single candle, lighting up the face of his captor.

"I'm going to be honest with you, Nicolæ, I wasn't expecting you to stay here in Budapest when I had initially arrived. Did you really think you'd be safer here with Agnar?"

"Agnar won't stand for this!" Nicolæ shouted as Afina moved toward him. She was like a black widow, elegant and terrifying – and he was the prey caught in her web.

"He will stand for it when he learns that you were a traitor."

"Lies!"

"Says the man who left incriminating evidence around for someone else to find," she tsked, revealing the letters from the Order that were all addressed to him. "Basic rule of survival, Nicolæ – the best way to keep a secret is to have no physical evidence that leads back to you." She tucked the letters back into a hidden pocket in her skirt and she sat down on the table beside him, hovering the candle over his face so she could get a better look at him. "You shouldn't have killed me, Nicolæ. You should have obeyed Count Dracula when you had the chance."

"I'm sorry!"

"Yes, I know," she said thoughtfully. She angled the candle and watched with fascination as the melted wax poured onto his chest, cooling on impact and returning to solid form. Nicolæ hissed as the heat burned his skin.

"Please," he pleaded. "I'll do anything. I'll tell you anything you want to know – about the Order, about Lord Craven. Just don't kill me."

"Why would I care about Lord Craven?"

"Dracula is your master, is he not?"

"No man is my master."

"But you are _with_ him. The Valerious family did not contact the Order about the threat of Count Dracula all those years ago. It was Craven!"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Afina interjected, sliding off the table and moving over a smaller one that had a white sheet draped over it.

"No, it's not! You don't know their history," Nicolæ insisted, watching in horror as Afina pulled the sheet off the smaller table, revealing an assortment of silver surgical tools and other torture devices, some of them soaking in what appeared to be holy water.

"Then explain it to me," she replied indifferently, putting on a silver clawed thumb ring that looked terribly sharp. She positioned the smaller table next to the one Nicolæ was confined to and then she took her seat beside him again. She removed a knife from a small beaker of holy water and allowed the blessed liquid to drip onto his skin. Nicolæ cringed in agony. The water felt like acid, but he would not give her the satisfaction of crying out, though he desperately wanted to. He could feel his flesh bubble and burn with each drop that came into contact with his skin. "Please continue," she urged him.

"Craven and Dracula have never gotten along, not since the Count took Marishka as his bride."

"Why would Craven care?"

"Because he was obsessed with her," Nicolæ explained, desperately trying to trying to remain composed as Afina gently ran the tip of the blade up and down his chest. The holy water scorched his skin, leaving lines of burns as she idly traced unknown designs over his abdomen, moving lower and lower still. The liquid began to evaporate off the blade and soon he could feel the cool steel teasing his flesh. Afina watched as his wounds healed and as the pain ebbed away, Nicolæ began to relax somewhat. "Craven had been courting Marishka for at least a year, masquerading as a wealthy nobleman in an effort to win over her family. But before he could obtain approval from her father, the Count snatched her up and made her his own, and to make matters worse, he had not only the blessing of her entire bloodline, but even Marishka herself approved of the match. Craven begged Vigdís, the head of that bloodline, to denounce the bond so he could have Marishka for himself, but Vigdís refused him."

"So Craven swore to loathe him for all eternity? Who cares?" Afina replied tracing the tip of the dagger down his arm and to his wrist where she applied pressure and the blade broke the skin. He began to bleed, his blood thick and dark – almost like a dark, melted, crimson colored chocolate. The blood soon poured off the table and Afina positioned a glass at his wrist to gather the liquid. Each time the cut healed, she pressed down with the knife again, constantly reopening the wound as Nicolæ continued.

"You don't understand. Craven has a small following of powerful vampires that wish to see Dracula destroyed."

"But he can't be killed – not permanently, anyway," she explained, lifting the blade to her lips and drawing her tongue along its length in a way that was almost suggestive. Nicolæ watched her with apprehension and fascination as she experienced her first taste of vampire blood, her eyes closed. When she opened them, her irises were glowing a hypnotic electrified blue, as though the taste had aroused her. "Haven't they figured it out by now?" she asked, her voice low. "Every time he is destroyed, he comes back stronger. Does no one even know what a hydra is anymore?"

"There is a way," Nicolæ insisted. "The same way the Order killed your father."

His words struck an unpleasant chord in Afina, and with a swift movement, she slammed the blade into his wrist, tip first, staking his hand to the table.

"That was a fluke, a serendipitous accident that they still can't manage to repeat," she explained, standing beside the table now.

"An accident they've been studying for two decades now to see if they can replicate it. They're close. Very close…" His voice wavered for a moment, distracted as she unlaced is trousers. Confused and mildly aroused, he was about to ask her what she had planned for him when he noticed the candle in her hand and before he could protest, she poured the hot wax between his legs, openly relishing in the sound of his pain.

"You can't kill Dracula," she sighed, placing the candle down on the smaller table. "He's been killed multiple times now, and he still manages to come back. How did he put it? Ah yes – heaven won't take him and hell doesn't want him." She picked up a sharp looking device that looked like it was meant for chopping off fingers, and it sent a wave of unrestrained dread through Nicolæ. "But thank you for the information on Craven. I'm certain Vlad will welcome the excuse to drag him out into the sun. As for you…" she said, perching her face over his, the silver claw on her finger creating a long scratch along the side of his face, "… nothing you say can save you. You destroyed my life, you killed my husband, and you threatened a good family – a family that I view as friends. That's three ways you've crossed me, Nicolæ. Do you know what happens to people that cross me?"

She caressed the scratch on his cheek almost sweetly, running the bloody fingertip over his lips so he could taste his own blood before she leaned forward, kissing him. Her kiss was passionate – a vampire's kiss. Her sharp fangs bit his lower lip, making it bleed, and she fed on the blood in his mouth. Soon, he was kissing her back, aroused and terrified at the same time. Nicolæ felt a pressure build at the base of his spine and the cooled wax began to break off his skin as the blood rushed to his groin, making him hard.

She must have sensed this, because he could feel her smiling wickedly against his lips and it suddenly dawned on him what she was about to do.

"This is probably going to hurt you a lot more than it'll hurt me," she said, her eyes now black as pitch, and before he could utter a single plea for mercy, he felt the cold silver encircle him and then – utter agony.

Nicolæ cried out in pain, but nothing compared to the scream that came when she poured holy water on the wound, preventing him from healing – or growing back, for that matter. She allowed him to become accustomed to the pain for a few brief moments, turning on the gramophone in the corner of the room, Verdi's _Stride la Vampa_ soon flooding the dark, along with the male vampire's screams as she went to work.

Afina blocked the noise of his agony as the taste of his blood continued to caress her palate. She took the glass that had since overflowed with that decadent crimson liquid and she devoured it in a single breath, scarlet streaming down the corners of her lips, creating little rivers along the length of her neck. The effect was almost immediate. The blood seemed to sharpen her senses, and yet it made her feel incredibly light, weightless even, as if her feet weren't even touching the ground. There was an intense pleasure building in her womb and she could feel the electricity making its way through every nerve and vein. Soon, all she could hear was the music in her head, the soprano's voice ringing in her ears like some kind of dark angel.

Taking a sharp blade in her hand, she watched with a strange fascination as it sliced open the vampire's flesh and more of that dark crimson erupted from the chasm. The smell was overwhelming, like a perfume with too much musk, rich and decadent. She could feel that she-wolf inside of her awaken at the scent and soon it was clawing violently at its cage, as if pleading to be let free. With each cut she made, that wolf grew more violent, more persistent.

Soon to be lost to the bloodlust and the unreal pleasure that just the sight of the blood created in her, Afina whispered a weak prayer for God's forgiveness before she surrendered to the darkness completely, tearing open Nicolæ's chest with her bare hands and relishing in the sound of his ribs snapping.

...

Dorina and Andrei stood guard over the door that led down to the dungeons beneath the house, making sure Afina would remain uninterrupted. She had been down there with Nicolæ for well over a half-hour now and still hadn't emerged.

"How do you think it's going?" Dorina asked her brother.

"Not a clue. But I hope it's painful."

"I still can't believe Nicolæ would betray us like that. After everything our family has done for him."

"I'm just glad Afina uncovered the truth when she did."

"As am I. Have you told father yet?"

"No. I'm not even sure how to."

"I think I can resolve that for you," they heard Afina say on the other side of the door. Dorina opened it and covered her mouth in horror at the scene that lay on the other side. Nicolæ's hands were tied together with rope that appeared to have been soaked in holy water – and it was having no effect on Afina, who was holding the bonds. His body, which was resting on a thick canvas to keep the blood from staining the floor, had been sliced to ribbons, with long deep gashes where major arteries had been – as if she had been draining him of his blood, or even removing the system of capillaries herself – and in the center of his chest was a gaping hole that was being held open by some kind of silver clamp, his ribs broken and protruding from the wound as if she had snapped each one by hand, leaving his heart completely exposed.

Afina herself was covered in his blood, her arms totally drenched, and with what appeared to be blood splatter on her neck, face, and chest. She was downing what was left of his blood in a glass and when she was done, she tossed it behind her, unfazed by sound of it shattering. She looked slightly delirious and heady, as she had been deeply aroused by the carnage she had created and had received some kind of intense sexual gratification out of it. Remnants of that arousal still lingered in her eyes and it made her look positively feral. She took a deep breath before letting it out slowly, as if trying to regain a sense of the control she had lost moments ago.

"Come, let's go show your father what's left of this traitor," and she began to drag Nicolæ's body down the hall. Dorina and Andrei followed after her in silent awe.

Their entrance into the ballroom was nothing short of dramatic.

Andrei and Dorina opened the double doors at the top of the stairs for Afina and the entire room went silent as she practically strutted into the room with Nicolæ in tow. Their whispers meant nothing to her as she dragged his body through the crowd, stopping in the center of the dance floor. She scanned the crowd with her still black and bloodlust filled eyes, finding the Count standing beside Agnar, both watching her with looks of astonishment. Her eyes met his and lingered for several long moments. She almost felt naked and exposed in front of him, as if he were perfectly aware of the pleasure she was feeling and it made her self-conscious.

"What is the meaning of this?" Agnar shouted angrily, making his way over to the center of the ballroom. Andrei and Dorina quickly stood between their father and Afina.

"He is a traitor, father," Andrei began.

"That is absolute nonsense!" the older vampire raged. He turned toward Dracula and pointed furiously at him. "Count, I told you I would not stand for this in my house!"

The Count calmly made his way over to them.

"Father, Nicolæ betrayed us. He was working for the Order," Dorina began, but her father, furious and humiliated, snapped back, ordering her to be silent.

"I think you've ignored the truth for long enough, Agnar," Dracula said smoothly. "It's high time you listen, old friend." His gaze caught Afina's again and it took everything in him not to stare too long.

She looked like some kind of war goddess, covered in Nicolæ's blood, her eyes now glowing blue. Never breaking away from his gaze, she lifted her free hand and began to suck the blood off her fingers, two at a time, a positively wicked gleam in her eyes.

She was teasing him.

He cleared his throat and then began to speak, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"This man is just a taste of what our species has become – weak, treacherous, and self-absorbed. There was a time, not long ago, when we were on the brink of becoming a force to be reckoned with. And what happens? I vanish for a couple of years and you begin to corrode. All I hear are whispers of secret organizations, pacts between traitors, in-fighting, intrigues. The vampire race has become decadent and weak. The wolves have more pride in their race than you!"

The insult infuriated many, and the room soon filled with clashing shouts of protest and agreement. Afina removed the incriminatory letters from the hidden pocket in her gown and held them up in the air.

"Here is your proof!" she shouted. "A correspondence between the Holy Order in Rome and this man here!" and she pulled the rope, lifting Nicolæ into an upright position. "In a vain effort to receive clemency from the church, he was willing to _murder_ you and your entire family under your own roof," she explained, looking directly at Agnar and his wife, Miruna, who was standing beside him now. "And that's not all… he has also confessed to having knowledge of a handful of vampires, some in this very room, that have a truce between themselves and the Order. They are the ones responsible for the desecration of Count Dracula's bloodline!"

The Count turned to face Afina, his eyes full of disbelief at this new revelation.

"_What?_"

"They were the ones that contacted the Order, not the Valerious. They are the reason Van Helsing came to Transylvania. They are the reason why tens of thousands of vampires – _your_ friends, _your_ family_, _lovers, companions, servants, allies, brothers, sisters, _all_ dead because they felt threatened by this man here," she shouted, pointing to Dracula. "Because this man had the audacity to unite a species, because he had the gall, the ambition to make the vampire race the most terrifying force this wretched earth has ever seen!"

She threw the letters down at the feet of Agnar dramatically.

"And what are you now?" she asked the silent crowd. "Without him, you are nothing but damned bones and damned souls. You have lulled yourselves into a false sense of security. You are not more powerful than the Holy Order. I have witnessed their power firsthand. They are a machine – they never stop, they never sleep, their resources cover the earth, their spies are everywhere. Their spies are among us right now!"

"I will not stand by and watch a bunch of pompous curs destroy what is left of our people," Dracula swore. "Too long have they threatened our very existence." There were muttered agreements throughout the room. "Too long have we been forced to hide in the shadows." More voices joined in. "Too long have we been slave to the dark, always living in fear of the sun, the stake, and the wolf. _No more_," he hissed darkly. "Who are we to be afraid? Who are we to be a slave to the past? Who are we to be anonymous? The very word _vampire _should be spoken in reverent tones or terrified whispers. We will not deny our greatness any longer. We will not be free to exist until the Order has been disbanded. And if that means breaking down the doors of the Vatican, so be it. _They want a war; we'll give them a war!_"

His declaration was met with a thunderous cheer of approval and the Count soaked it in.

"Now then, what do we do with traitors?" he shouted, grabbing Nicolæ by the hair and lifting him into the air for the mob of vampires to see.

"Kill him!"

"Throw him into the sun!"

"Give him to the wolves!"

"Stake him!"

"Kill him!"

The Count turned to Agnar who was holding the incriminatory letters in his hand, perusing through their contents in an effort to verify all that had been spoken. He could not argue with the evidence before him, nor could he defy his vehement guests.

He looked into Nicolæ's eyes, at first with disappointment, and then with a hardened expression.

"This is your house, Agnar. And as your guest, I will continue to respect your wishes," Dracula insisted.

Agnar looked long and hard at Nicolæ, and the longer he looked, the more infuriated he became.

"Give me his heart," he commanded.

Afina stepped forward and reached into the gaping hole she had created in Nicolæ's chest, tearing the heart from inside of him, the sounds of the ripped veins and arteries sending a chill down several spines. She handed the organ to Agnar who held it before Nicolæ so he could see it.

"I invited you into my home. I made you a part of my family. Everything I had was yours for the taking… and _this_ is how you repay me? Did you honestly think that murdering my family, after all we've done for you, would wipe your slate clean? No church can give you that. Killing will not save your tainted soul, Nicolæ."

"Forgive me?" Nicolæ muttered breathlessly.

"Never," Agnar hissed and he squeezed the heart in front of his face until it erupted in his hand and Nicolæ dissolved into a pile of blood and ash. When the deed was done, he turned to the Count and fell to one knee, bowing deeply. His family immediately followed suit.

"You have my full allegiance. I swear it." He removed a small blade hidden in his cloak and he cut his palm, allowing the blood to drip onto the floor at Dracula's feet. The sign of devotion brought ever other knee in the room to the floor in submission; even Afina knelt before the Count, Dorina and Andrei on either side of her. Dracula turned to see her there and he immediately reached down, placing his finger beneath her blood-soaked chin and raising her face up so he could look into her eyes.

_You need never kneel before me, my dear,_ she heard his voice say in her head. She rose to her feet and stood at his side, looking out over the sea of vampires that were kneeling in submission. The scene before her, along with Nicolæ's blood which she could still taste in her mouth, made her feel powerful in a way she had never felt before.

With Dracula by her side, she felt invincible. Nothing could touch her. Nothing could touch either of them.

_So this is what it feels like to be a god_, she thought to herself, beginning to understand for the first time Dracula's obsession with power.

The masquerade continued after the scene ended, although the atmosphere in the room had changed dramatically. The air felt lighter and everyone was abuzz with the Count's dramatic return into power. Every vampire of influence came to congratulate him on his seize of authority and his declaration of war against the Holy Order, each individually swearing their fealty to him. Afina searched the crowd for Lucas Craven, hoping she'd have the chance to confront him, but he had vanished and neither Elizabeth, nor Zsófia had any idea where he had disappeared to.

Although mildly disappointed, Afina didn't let it bother her. She was still high on the carnage and the taste of Nicolæ's blood. Vampire blood was very different from human blood. It had a decadence to it – like melted chocolate – and it had proven to be a powerful aphrodisiac, which would explain why the sharing of one's blood between two vampires was considered the highest form of affection and intimacy. She spent about twenty minutes or so with Andrei and Dorina, taking in the change of scene before them and relishing in their little victory, but after a while, Afina excused herself, desperate for solitude and the opportunity to not only clean up, but calm down.

She retreated to her bedroom, forbidding herself from consuming anymore of Nicolæ's blood on her person. Her libido was starting to drive her mad and she took long, deep breaths in an effort to calm herself, opening all of the windows in her room to let the cold night air ease her back into reality. She drew herself a bath and carefully removed her dress. It took a great deal of self-control, but she managed to refrain from sucking the blood out of the fabric. Perhaps going nearly five days without feeding hadn't been so wise after all, she thought to herself as she slid into the tub.

It took a cold bath and several long minutes of deep, calming breaths, but soon enough, she was herself again. She dressed into a knee-length satin nightgown after she was clean, and she sat beside the fire, the music from the masquerade playing downstairs floating in the air like a distant sigh. With her feet propped up on the tea table between the two chairs, she leaned back into the luxurious cushion and lost herself to the music below. If she listened hard enough, she could hear the guests chatting – their words an indistinct whisper in her head, along with the sounds of some hidden away in dark rooms, lost to passion. The collection of sounds with the music sounded like a decadent opera in her head, and she allowed herself to get lost in it as visions of swirling dancers in gold and black, green, red, purple, and blue spun in her head.

The realization of what she had done was slowly beginning to sink into her consciousness and try as she might, she couldn't push it back down. She could see the blood in her mind's eye, could hear Nicolæ's screams faintly in her head, even as the music from the distant ballroom lingered in the air. The look of terror in his eyes, the carnage she had created left an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach. Then there was the Count – the look of pride and lust in his eyes left a faint burning sensation on her skin that was both delicious and terrifying.

And the way she had behaved, how she had looked at him – Afina suddenly felt embarrassed, ashamed even of how she had felt just moments ago. She silently reprimanded herself for losing control like that, for succumbing to the she-wolf, an action that had given her a great deal more pleasure than it should have. She felt dark and although part of her loved the sensation, there was still a part of her that feared it. The warring thoughts and conflicting feelings inside her was beginning to hurt her head and she was so overcome by it, she never heard the door to her bedroom open. But she soon felt the familiar presence and she opened her eyes to find the Count standing just a few feet away from her.

His expression was unreadable, but the way he looked at her only made her feel more impervious. She was perfectly aware of how indecent she looked right now, and a part of her didn't care. _You should care_, her obnoxiously pious conscience nagged.

"Lord Craven is missing," Dracula finally said, not sure of what it was exactly that he had planned on saying to her. All he knew was the vision of her covered in Nicolæ's blood and licking her fingers refused to leave his brain. If they didn't talk about something, he would strongly consider breaching their agreement.

"Yes, I know," she finally said, breaking away from his gaze. "He went missing shortly after I brought Nicolæ in. Normally, I wouldn't care, except our recently departed traitor mentioned Craven's name when he told me about the coup."

"I had a feeling," he said, taking a seat on the edge of her bed. She pulled her knees in close to her body as she looked over at him. Tonight had been quite the victory, for both of them, but the knowledge that his own kind had been indirectly responsible for his death and the destruction of his line was difficult news to swallow. He was perfectly aware that he was disliked in some circles, but he never could have dreamed of the extent. "What else did Nicolæ say?"

"He said that the Order was trying to recreate whatever it was that killed my father so they could use it on you and the few other vampires that are immune to the traditional methods of destruction."

"Did he say anything about how close they were to accomplishing this task?"

"No, but this secret band that has sworn fealty to the Order is going to be a problem."

He rolled his eyes.

"Truly."

Afina made her way over to him.

"So what's our next move?" she asked.

He looked over at her and sighed.

"I don't know. I don't want to think about that now," he insisted. "If I've learned anything in my four-hundred and some-odd years, it's to relish in the victories, and I intend to do just that. At least until tomorrow."

"I'm sure Zsófia will be happy to oblige," Afina teased, trying to appear disinterested. "Or Dorina, or quite literally any woman downstairs."

"And what about you, Afina?" he asked, suddenly quite serious.

"What about me, Count?" she replied, trying to hide her hesitation with a smirk.

"How do you plan to relish in our victory?"

"_Our_ victory? Vlad, the victory this evening is yours. All I did was torture a man."

"You seemed to enjoy that immensely."

"I did," she confessed. "I felt liberated, avenging not only myself, but Henric, and Agnar's family."

"Is that all you felt?" he pried. Her blush was his answer. "That entrance you made was perfection."

"It was, wasn't it?" she said with a smile.

"_You_ were perfection."

"Your flattery won't work on me, Vlad," she laughed awkwardly in an effort to dispel the growing tension, leaning against the bedpost with her arms crossed over her chest, but he wasn't laughing with her.

"I wasn't trying to flatter you. You aren't just _any_ woman to me, Afina."

She wasn't quite sure how to respond to his sense of earnestness. That secret part of her wanted to believe him, but experience had made her wary.

"You agreed to treat me as an equal, not view me as one," she reminded him.

"You are my equal," he said. "And if tonight has proven anything, you are superior."

"Stop it," she insisted, suddenly self-conscious and uncomfortable. It was so strange – she had been secretly craving his attention, but now that she was getting it, something about it rubbed her the wrong way.

"I won't stop. Afina, I don't think you realize what an impact you had on everyone tonight. I could not have achieved that kind of reaction without your help. I entered that masquerade feeling like some kind of pariah, but you…" He stood and took a step toward her, only for her to take two steps back, "…you've changed everything," he continued. "That display of savagery, the unadulterated power that radiated from you when you entered that ballroom with not only a traitor in tow, but the host's children coming to your defense. And the things you said, every movement you made, every inflection, every look – you have exceeded all of my expectations. You are… you are… " His voice trailed off, as if no word in his entire vocabulary could do what he was feeling justice.

She had heard him compliment and flatter many women in the time she had known him, but never with this kind of sincerity. There had been moments when he'd compliment her and she knew he was telling the truth, but this felt different. This had an urgency, a need behind it. He seemed on the brink of losing himself, as if he had been struggling for the last year to keep his word to her, and now it had become nearly impossible.

Afina suddenly felt very exposed, realizing that her manner of dress, or lack thereof, probably wasn't helping his resolve. She longed to cover herself from his ravishing gaze, but it felt so good to be looked at like that, to feel his gaze burning her skin.

She knew exactly what he was thinking, and she knew that if given the chance, he'd convince her to lose herself in him, just as she had lost herself this evening in Nicolæ's blood. She wanted it – heaven knew she did. But in her experience, sex always complicated things and she wasn't ready to complicate her relationship with him. If she succumbed, she would no longer be his equal. After a while, she'd be just like any other woman to him – his slave, helpless to resist. The option was unacceptable. She had worked too hard to get where she was now and she wasn't about to give it up so the sexual tension between them could be released.

"No," she said firmly.

Her answer to his unasked question took him by surprise. He could see it in her – she wanted it as much as he did! Did she doubt his intentions, the level of his sincerity?

"No?"

"No," she confirmed, with more resolution.

"Afina…" he began, but she cut him off, holding her ground.

"No, Vlad. I will not."

He knew he should let it go, respect her wishes, but he had grown so tired of waiting over the last few days. A year's worth of sexual tension between them, coupled with tonight was too much for a man used to getting what he wanted. He could relish in the chase like any good hunter, but this was one prize he was growing impatient for. So he continued.

"Afina, that is the most ridiculous thing I think I've ever heard."

"My answer is still _no_."

"Woman!"

"No, Vlad."

"What? Do you want me to beg?"

"I don't want anything from you."

"You and I both know that's not true."

He took another step toward her and she took two more back.

"You swore to me that if I said no, you would respect my wishes."

"And I am," he said, taking another step toward her, holding his hands up in defense. "I haven't even touched you." The look he gave her was positively wolfish and she felt something bloom deep in her womb – a heat, as if her treacherous body was already preparing for him while her mind was left to fight alone. She knew exactly what he was doing. She had seen him do it a hundred times over to other women. If the Count was the best at anything, it was the art of seduction. She had seen him break the strongest of women with a single look, word, or touch. He was going to try to break her now, and she wasn't sure if she was strong enough to resist him.

"Vlad, I'm serious, stop it."

"I'm not doing anything," he said with an almost cheeky grin.

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you want to eat me," she said, running out of floor with her back to the wall.

"What a delightful thought," he purred as his eyes devoured her. He removed his jacket and draped it over the back of the chair before closing in on the remaining space between them. "I'd love to bury my face between your…" she stopped him before he could finish, putting her hand over his mouth.

"That is _quite_ enough," she insisted. He sighed, resting his arms on the wall on either side of her as her hand fell from his lips and rested on his chest.

"We can't even talk about it?" he asked. "I'm sure I can stir your imagination."

"Vlad…"

"I could tell you what I _want_ to do to you… with as many details as you'd like."

"I don't think I need help figuring out what you want to do."

"But it could be fun."

"I said no."

"I bet I can make you come without even touching you," he husked, their bodies barely touching, a mere inch between the two of them.

Her body ached and she could feel her resolve beginning to slip.

"Stop it," she pleaded half-heartedly.

"Make me."

"This is sexual harassment."

"You like it. I can smell it on you."

She blushed, cursing her treacherous body.

"My answer is still no."

He emitted a low, deep growl and her knees went weak.

"No, Vladislaus. No, no… no…" Her voice had turned into a heady moan. The space between them was becoming too much, and even though he hadn't touched her, it almost felt like he had. She could feel him in her head, making her feel things, like phantom hands and mouths all over her body in the most erogenous areas.

"I want to taste you," he whispered, and she felt the breath of his words on her neck.

"I…"

"Just kiss me, Afina. That's it. No sex, no blood, no lengthy speeches. Just…" His lips hovered tantalizingly over hers. This was torture!

She could still remember the one and only time they had kissed – one of her last nights as a human. She remembered how wonderful it was, how intense it had been. She licked her lips subconsciously and he noticed, his fingers delicately brushing over her faintly open mouth as he rested his head against hers, staring longingly at her. She saw him lick his lips as well as he dipped the tip of a single finger into her mouth and he felt her tongue brush up against the tip receptively.

She wanted this.

But he wanted it more, and for very different reasons. There was no real affection in his eyes anymore, not that she could see anyway. He was all lust, every inch of him oozing sex, as if he were some kind of incubus and she had become his unsuspecting prey. How this had escalated so quickly, she thought to herself, struggling to regain what little self-restraint she had left.

She was lucky he was still respecting her wishes in making this _her_ decision. Those were the rules. But that didn't mean his persistence hadn't crossed a line.

"Kiss me," he breathed. "Afina…"

The way he groaned her name nearly undid her.

"I – I can't."

"On the contrary, you've kissed me before. I remember it well." He bit his lower lip just slightly in an almost hungry manner, as if she were some kind of object, a piece of flesh, and he longed sate his hunger. "_Don't say no to me_…" he said in his native tongue, his voice a dark purr that was both sexual and threatening. Afina was grateful that he had spoken to her in such a manner – it made it easier to steel herself. But a part of her – a secret part of her – was also disappointed in him. Either way, she couldn't succumb to him – as much as she wanted to.

"I won't, Vlad. Not now… and not like this," she answered, sounding much more firm and resolute.

Her words puzzled him and he moved his head back a bit so he could get a better look at her face. That small secret part of her mourned the distance his action created, but she held her ground well, her eyes never betraying her true feelings, feelings she wasn't even ready to admit to herself.

"What do you mean?" he asked her.

"I'm not a piece of meat, Vlad. I'm not some shiny toy for you to play with whenever you want, and I'm not a machine, either. Despite my disturbing lack of a heartbeat, I am still a person, and I will not sink any further than I already have."

"Sink further?" he repeated, taking a step away from her now. "Is that how you view me – as beneath _you_?"

"That is not what I said."

"No, I think it is. I thought we moved past this self-righteous sense of morality, Afina. You're immortal and you're damned. You have no use for it. You owe _Him _no allegiance."

"That is not what I'm saying, and you know it!" She was taken aback by how loud her voice suddenly was. She didn't mean to shout. But she was so frustrated – sexually and otherwise – it had just come out that way. She struggled to calm herself as she proceeded to explain.

"You told me that I was something more, Vlad. _You _told me that. You said that I deserved a man who worshiped the ground I walked on, that I deserved a man who would treat me with courtesy, with respect, and not as some piece of flesh to be conquered; an equal – someone who viewed me as a partner, a companion in life, allowing me to flourish independently, as well as along with him. That I should belong to no man unless I gave myself to him openly and freely and without restraint. _You _were the one that said that to me."

"Every woman wants to hear that, Afina," he shot, suddenly angry. "You were hurt and betrayed and I was trying to boost your confidence. Is that what you really want? To be worshiped like some sort of goddess? To be loved and adored? To be viewed as the most perfect specimen of femininity, to be put on a pedestal? Do you want me to fall to my knees before you and offer you my heart? I am a _man_, Afina, not some boy that wants to make love to you with words." His voice was full of mocking.

She sighed in frustration, raking her fingers through her hair and tugging lightly at the roots.

"Vlad, I don't want to be worshiped. But I _do_ want to be respected and… and as unrealistic and clichéd as it sounds, yes, I do want to be loved, as a person _and_ as a woman. That's why I can't kiss you. I can't give myself to you – because you still view me as just another conquest. That kind of intimacy between us wouldn't mean a _thing_ to you in the way that it would to me. If you repeat something over and over again, it loses meaning. Our lives are the same way, Vlad, even more so because we are cursed to live forever. If you watch the sun set too often, it just becomes six in the evening. If you make the same mistakes over and over again, you'll stop calling it a mistake. If you just wake up, and wake up, every evening like it's some kind of routine, you'll forget why it's worth getting up in the first place. If you ravish and seduce whatever woman you can get your hands on, and you do that over and over and over again, you lose the beauty, the intimacy of making love, of truly connecting with the other person. After a while, it just becomes a mindless habit, passionless motions that mean nothing. The pleasure is hollow. Nothing is forever, Vladislaus. Not with you. It's just monotony, going through the motions, because you've done nothing else for the last four centuries. It means nothing to you. No one means anything to you. I mean nothing to you."

"That is quite the speech," he replied, the venom in his voice masking the foreign pain her words left in his chest.

"It's not a speech. It's the truth."

"Is that really what you think?" he asked in hushed tones, his expression unreadable. She couldn't be certain if he was hurt or angry or indifferent, and it bothered her immensely.

"Yes, it is. There are moments when I truly believe that you see me for _who_ I am and not _what_ I am, but I'm sincerely beginning to wonder if all of that was some kind of act – a façade to keep me satisfied until you have no need of me anymore. As much as this flesh may desire you, Count Dracula, I understand my worth and I deserve far greater than you. I will not be another name on your list that needs checking off. I won't be your next fix. I cannot give myself to you. I will not. I don't… I do not want to give myself to you. I don't want to be your lover, Vladislaus."

That last part about being his lover was a lie. A huge, blatant, unadulterated lie.

Although she'd never consciously or openly admit it to herself, that secret part of her knew it was false from the second it left her lips. Meanwhile Dracula was at war with himself. His pride and his libido insisted on seduction. He knew a part of her wanted him, and he knew he could have her even if it meant taking her by force. She'd succumb. They all did. But there was something in him that kept him from persisting – whether it was the shock of her bold words or the strange respect he had acquired for her in the last year, he couldn't be certain. He had tested her boundaries far enough for one evening and knew it would not be prudent to push her further. He couldn't risk losing her, not over something as trivial as a kiss. So, suppressing his basest of instincts, he backed off, taking a few more steps back and reaching for the jacket he had draped over the back of a chair.

He said nothing as made his way across the room, only offering her a gentle "good night" before shutting the door, taking his wounded pride with him. When he was gone, Afina stood there with her back against the wall for some time, listening as he stood out in the hall for several long seconds before heading back downstairs to the party.

When he was gone, the only thing she could manage to do was slide down to the floor, and she sat there for some time after, thinking of how things could have been different if she had just relented and kissed him. She prayed that her blatant rejection of him would not put too much of a rift between them, but her gut told her it was a fool's hope and she kicked herself internally. She didn't move from that spot until the morning sun had begun to rise, and she only did so to close the drapes so she could reside in complete darkness. She lied on top of her bed for hours afterwards, staring up at the ceiling, listening to the Count just a couple of rooms down the hall as he ravished what sounded like Elizabeth Nouveau and Zsófia at the same time.

She felt both disgusted and slightly jealous and try as she might to block the sounds of their deviant revels, she could not escape them. This was his punishment for her, undoubtedly.

She hoped she had made the right decision. She knew deep down that she had. But a growing part of her still regretted it, making sleep impossible.

* * *

_**Musical Influences: **_  
[1]_ Darkness Deep Within_, by Paul Haslinger, "Underworld" score  
[2]_ Stride la Vampa_ from Verdi's _Il Trovatore_, sung by Vicorica Cortez, featured in the "Stoker" OST  
[3]_ The End Of An Era – Opening_, by Paul Haslinger, "Underworld" score  
[4]_ Black of Hair_, by Ramin Djawadi, "Game of Thrones" season 1 OST  
[5]_ Sempre libera_, performed by Anna Netrebko & Rolando Villazón, "Violetta - Arias And Duets From Verdi's La Traviata"  
[6]_ Armand's Seduction_, by Elliot Goldenthal, "Interview With A Vampire" OST  
[7]_ Never One For Love_, Christopher Young, "Priest" OST


	10. Never Enough

**Chapter 10: Never Enough**

"I just don't understand why you're not taking this more seriously!" Afina insisted, trying her best to remain calm, but his disinterest wasn't making it any easier. "You've known about Craven for almost three weeks now, and you've done absolutely nothing!"

"I've made inquiries," Dracula defended.

"_I_ made the inquiries," she corrected him. "And every name I bring to you, you disregard with a flippancy that I can't even begin to comprehend!"

"I've had more pressing things to deal with, Afina. Why would I waste precious time hunting down a small band of nobodies when you are clearly doing an excellent job of it?"

Oh, how she wanted to slap that smug grin off his face!

"Oh, yes. How could I forget? Throwing an insipid party is _infinitely _more important than your own safety!" she shot, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Besides, it's not like whatever this secret weapon the Order is on the verge of completing, the very same weapon that destroyed my father, will have _any_ effect on the all-mighty, all-powerful, impenetrable Count Dracula," and she finished it off with a dramatic bow. "Because that _exact_ same arrogance didn't get you killed _last time_."

He sent her a warning look, but she ignored it, not caring that the servants' ears were privy to their conversation as they continued to prepare the estate. Afina and Vlad had stayed an additional week with Agnar and his family after the eventful equinox ball, before moving into the Count's palace on the outskirts of Budapest – Vilkova. It had been in need of some repairs, especially since the remains of several hundred vampires had still littered the floor from when he had been there last, almost six years ago. It had been like walking through a haunted house, everything dark, filthy, and in disrepair. Afina had noticed that the remains had troubled Vlad, despite his best efforts to hide it, and she had done her best to be the silent support he needed, even with the tension between them.

Within a week, after a slew of servants had been hired, the house had been transformed, restored to its former glory. While the Count had overseen the running of the estate and the plans for the upcoming All Hallows Eve ball which was to take place at the end of the month, Afina had assisted in making additional inquiries regarding Lord Craven and his band of would-be usurpers, hoping that she'd find where they were hiding so the threat could be eliminated before All Hallows Eve.

The Count's interest in the threat, however, had waned considerably in the last few weeks as he became more engrossed in political movements and strategies, leaving Afina to make those inquiries on her own. It wasn't like she wasn't capable – she had proven to be an excellent spy. But when she did learn any information of interest – which usually consisted of specific names – Dracula would dismiss the information and leave her to handle it. The Count seemed to have no interest in his own safety, let alone the safety of his own guests.

At first, she accepted his indifference, excusing it, for he was indeed very busy, and the planning of a party that was to mark his return took a great deal of time, especially since the majority of his help in the past was now deceased. But lately, his indifference started to feel more personal to Afina, his dismissal of her in general starting to grate on her nerves.

It felt like he was punishing her for her rejection of his advances. She knew she shouldn't care about his good opinion, but she couldn't help herself. He was really the only person she had in her life. Even though he still treated her as an equal (somewhat, anyway), he was still in many ways her master, her teacher. She admired him, what he had been and what he was. She wanted nothing more than to help him succeed, and – perhaps even more so – she wanted nothing more than for him to survive. But this treatment was becoming intolerable.

It was a miracle that the vampire community was responding so positively toward him like they had been (Lord Craven and his followers excepted, of course), and she was certain that a great deal of that response was owned to not only the events of the masquerade, but the fact that he was the only vampire in the history of their kind to be resurrected several times now.

He was like a cat with nine lives.

But when would his luck run out?

She just couldn't understand why he treated his existence with such carelessness.

"Why aren't you taking this seriously, Vlad?" she asked him, a hint of pleading in her voice.

"What would you have me do, Afina? Round up and punish all of these supposed traitors?"

"It would be a start."

"It's a waste of my time. They've done nothing to defy me."

"Nothing to defy you?" she repeated in disbelief. "I'm sorry, but did you forget that tiny little detail about Craven being the reason why Van Helsing showed up in Transylvania in the first place?"

"That was six years ago. And he knows that I know that now. He won't be foolish enough to try that again."

"Are you even _listening_ to yourself? Do you _hear_ how ridiculous and irresponsible that sounds?"

"Afina, I will not waste my time with petty revenge when I have far more important things to do."

She grabbed the list of guests that he had been examining from his grasp and threw them on the floor in a violent rage.

"This party is not important!" she shouted.

"Don't raise your voice at me," he warned her in deadly tones, his voice a dangerous hush.

"I will raise my voice until you stop punishing me for wounding your pride!" she snapped. "The Order is practically at your front door. This coup could threaten not only your life, but the lives of your guests, and all you can think about is…"

"ENOUGH!"

"But you are being _impossible_!"

"This party will secure my footing in vampire society. You may not understand the culture of your father…"

"Don't you, _dare_ bring my father into this!"

"...You may not even care about the culture he dedicated his life to preserving," he continued, "but I cannot even begin to _dream_ of waging war against an Order that has been around since time immemorial, that has dedicated their very existence to our extinction, without the full support of _all_ the bloodlines. This culture is steeped in blood-soaked tradition, and if I want their help, this 'insipid party', as you call it, needs to be a success. It may look like a bunch of excess and frivolity to you, but every party held in vampire society is a political maneuver. If Van Helsing hadn't taken everything from me six years ago, I would have happily spent my time disemboweling every member of Craven's order, just to make you happy. But instead, I have four weeks to prepare for an evening where I have to make up for _six years_ of absence! And instead of having the support of the _one person_ I need support from, I have to listen to you criticize everything I do!"

"You don't get to put this on me," she defended. "I'm trying to help!"

"And why on earth would you want to help me?" he snapped suddenly. "I never asked for it."

"You didn't have to! You clearly need it! You said it yourself – that masquerade was a success because of _me_. They are all willing to follow you because of what _I_ did, what _I _said."

"Oh, please – I could have done just fine without you."

"Yes, but that's it. The elders of the bloodlines have not left their homelands since the death of your brides. They've wanted _nothing_ to do with you! Do you honestly think they're coming all this way, risking so much, just to come see the great Count Dracula and his return to society? Oh and how could I forget? He also wants to wage an impossible war on the Holy Order and the left hand of God! I'm sure they're all going to be falling over themselves to get in line and fight alongside you!"

"You are treading on very dangerous ground," he warned her, his voice shaking with rage.

"You know what, Vlad? You're right. I don't know why I insist on helping you. You clearly don't want it. All you want help with is killing Van Helsing. Is that all I'm good for? I'm the one that actually knows the layout of the Order's secret base. I know what kind of weapons and technology we'll be up against. I know who their leaders are. Your supposed 'friends' do not. You have more enemies than allies, right now, Vlad. You would think I'd deserve at least a shred of gratitude for continuing to stand by you when all you do is treat me with contempt! Why do you insist on doubting me? Why is it so impossible for you to trust me?!"

"Well what am I supposed to do, Afina?!" he practically shouted, barely noticing how the servants in the room quietly exited, leaving them alone in the conservatory. "Everything about you is so bloody confusing and unnecessarily complicated! You have a history with the Order, and you show up on my doorstep all doe-eyed and eager to please. Then you turn around and say you feel nothing for me, and yet you act so unreasonably concerned for my safety at just the sound of danger! Craven has done _nothing_ since the masquerade ball three weeks ago. I know the man! When he wants revenge, he goes for it, no hesitation. I have no doubt he's the reason why Van Helsing came to Transylvania. But I also understand – which clearly, you do not – that despite his underhandedness, it was my own arrogance that led to my defeat. There! I admit it! Craven had nothing to do with it! So who bloody cares if he's working with the Order? Craven has known about my return just like everyone else for over half a decade and he's done nothing. NOTHING! Going after him would be a _waste_ of my time, and it is _clearly_ a waste of yours! If you insist on obsessing over this, then leave me out of it!"

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe the reason I've been 'obsessing' over it is because this is a _real_ threat?" she asked him, clearly hurt by his dismissal, try as she might to hide it. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe, they're expecting you to have your guard down?"

"What do you care?" he replied flippantly, exiting from the room. "You're only around because of our blood pact."

"That I made of my own free will!" she shouted, offended. "And not just because I was sired by you!"

That stopped him in his tracks and he turned around slowly to look at her, his look of cold indifference masking the surprise he truly felt.

"I overheard you discussing it with Agnar," she explained in calmer tones, answering his unasked question. "Why didn't you just tell me yourself?"

"Because it didn't matter," he insisted. "Besides, you were so furious that you had become a vampire, I felt it best not to add myself to your revenge list."

"Why did you do it?"

"Because it was the only way to get you to recognize your true potential."

"As a murderous, blood-thirsty vampire?"

"The life of a damphir is difficult enough – competing with two separate natures of two completely different species; struggling with things like morality and a conscience - although you insist on struggling between them even now. Vampirism is supposed to be much less complicated. I was trying to do you a favor."

"Is that what we're calling it now?" she asked him. "You really expect me to believe that? Tell me the truth, Vladislaus. I have a right to know. You knew who I was the moment I showed up at your door. Maybe even sooner."

"You want the truth? Fine," he hissed. "I sired you because you are the daughter of Alrik, the most powerful vampire in the history of this pitiful earth. Having you as an ally, or even as a puppet on my string gains me more footing in this society than you could possibly imagine. Do you have any idea how much power just the name of your father has?"

"So you've been using me?"

"You bloody well believe it," he growled, his eyes dark and full of fury. "Your display of loyalty at the masquerade ball has already made its way back to the elders. Just the knowledge of your existence will be enough for them to seal a pact with me. I told you I wanted my revenge and I don't care what I have to do or who I have to use to get it. I will destroy Gabriel Van Helsing and his precious Holy Order if it's the last thing I ever do!"

"You didn't have to lie to me," she insisted, appalled at the truth, though not entirely surprised by it.

"What possible motivation could you have to help me?" he snapped. "No, I had to make you dependent on me, had to use my relationship with your own parents against you to make sure you obeyed. I indulged you in your revenge and made certain that I was the only one you could rely on. And my plan worked perfectly!"

"Do you have no heart? Do you feel nothing?"

"Emotions are for the weak."

"I refuse to believe that. I refuse to believe that you feel absolutely nothing toward me, that I'm just some pawn to you," she defended. "It may have started out that way, but I _know_ you, Vladislaus. I know you better than anyone. It may not be love or even affection, but I know you feel something."

"It makes no difference, Afina. I made my choice. It may have been a selfish one, but I made it all the same and I do not regret it in the least."

"And why would you? You got what you wanted. A creation in your own image…" she hissed.

"Afina, don't bother trying to make me feel guilty. You'd be wasting your breath."

"Did you ever wonder why I came to you the night before I died?" she suddenly asked him. All anger had left her face, leaving her with an expression of calm laced with a disappointment that disturbed him rather unexpectedly. "Because I cared. Because for just a moment, I had convinced myself that you weren't the murderous, cold-hearted, hollow, son of the devil that everyone said you were, because I had convinced myself that the man you were in life – the man of honor, despite his demons – that he still existed. You vampires always love to say how you're so above the human race, that you don't need things like emotions, morals, a conscience, integrity, or honor. But you know what I think? I think that's a lie."

"For the love of God..." he exclaimed, rolling his eyes and turning his head away from her. "I will not endure this any longer," and he began to walk away, but she followed him, persistent.

"Eternity was never a blessing for you, was it, Vlad? It's a curse. Four centuries, struggling to obtain a single goal – to destroy the man that destroyed you – and you can't seem to do it. So year after year goes by. You know what I think? I think in your many lifetimes of living, Vladislaus, you've run out of things to live for. All you have left is your revenge. So you hide your shame, your disappointment, your loneliness, your sense of hopelessness in whatever passes the time and numbs the pain, the emptiness of an eternity with no real end – just darkness."

He turned suddenly and she nearly ran into him.

"At least I embrace that darkness. I know who I am."

"A lifetime of the night is not natural," she insisted. "Creatures of darkness are always lost and without direction – nothing good can come from lifetimes of shadow."

"But all creatures are drawn to it. As vampires, we are drawn to it still, even more so than mortals because we are forced to become one with it. I accepted what I had become long ago. Why can't you save yourself the agony and do the same?"

"Our species may be confined to the dark, but we do not have to become it."

"It is in our nature – it is in the nature of all living things. Do not underestimate the allure of darkness, Afina. Even the purest of hearts are drawn to it. Do not pretend that you are above us all. You've been drawn to it many times – I see it in you every time you hunt. I saw it burning in your eyes the night of Agnar's masquerade ball. You may suppress your lust for carnality, for sexual gratification, but you still feel it, my dear. That lust for blood – of the living _and_ the dead. Don't try to deny it."

"That lust only exists because you nurtured it. I refuse to believe that we are doomed to gravitate towards darkness. It's a choice. I may have impulses and desires, but I still _choose_ to indulge in them, just as you do."

"So you admit that there is an allure?"

"I admit no such thing," she retorted stubbornly. He took a step toward her so the space between them was minimal. She had never realized how much taller he was than she - he seemed to tower over her in that moment.

"So you've never felt the attraction that comes when someone who's capable of doing terrible things for some reason still cares about you?"

She understood his meaning. And as much as she wanted to believe he meant it, she couldn't – not after learning that he had been using her to accomplish is own ends.

"I thought I did. But no creature that behaves as if they are devoid of humanity has the ability to care. I may be prisoner to my lust for blood, but I haven't completely abandoned my humanity or the basic human desire for intimacy, affection, or light – even if I'm doomed to live out my eternity without it."

Her words wounded him in ways he had not expected, particularly because they were so true. It was as if she had torn back his façade of pride and self-assurance, and looked inside his soul – as black as it was – and it both unnerved and infuriated him at the same time. How they had gotten into such a deep subject bewildered him, but before he had the chance to continue it and offer her a rebuttal, or even an explanation as to why he was the way he was and how she had truly affected him, she returned to the original topic.

"Look, I understand that you don't care about Craven, or your own safety, Vlad. And I even understand that you may not care a great deal for me. But _I_ care, against my better judgment. If you want me to drop it, then I will. But I also need you to understand that the danger you are in is very real and I strongly advise you not take it lightly."

"Then I have been warned," he answered dispassionately.

He didn't mean to sound so dismissive of her, but he did, and he could see that it disappointed her. But he was genuinely impressed as he watched her school her feelings – her pride especially – and she put on a more stoic expression. There was still a moving amount of concern in her eyes, and for the briefest of moments, he almost considered taking her warning more seriously, perhaps even taking _her_ more seriously, as tender and bruised as his pride still was, but they were interrupted by a servant who announced that a strange woman had just arrived and was insisting on seeing the Count.

Dracula excused himself, leaving Afina alone in the conservatory, still deeply troubled by her words. But he managed to push those thoughts to the back of his mind, just as he entered the parlor on the right wing of the foyer, where this mystery guest had been left. What he found was something he had not expected.

Seated in one of the high-backed armchairs was Elizabeth Nouveau. She was dressed in a black travelling cloak and looked whiter than a ghost. She also had what appeared to be a silver stake stuck in her shoulder. The woman nearly burst into tears when she noted his entrance.

"Oh Count, at last!" she exclaimed.

"What happened?"

"It's Lucas! He's positively mad. You have to hide me!" she pleaded, falling to his feet.

"Craven did this to you?" he asked in disbelief, helping her back to the chair and kneeling before her.

"I've never seen him so enraged!" Elizabeth explained. "He left Agnar's ball early, you recall, though at the time I had no idea why. A few nights ago, I learned that he was in league with the Holy Order and was the one responsible for the summoning of Van Helsing all those years ago. I tried to break things off with him, telling him that I could never be with a traitor, and he tried to stake me!"

Dracula removed her cloak from her shoulders to examine the wound, immediately noting how low-cut her gown was. Elizabeth had always been a stunning creature, and even with a stake imbedded in her flesh and the wound clearly infected, the man in him had trouble focusing on the task at hand.

"Haven't you tried to remove it?"

"I can't. It's one of the Order's devices. It won't budge."

He examined it carefully.

"It appears to be made of pure silver." He sniffed it briefly, his brows furrowed. "Smells like it's excreting some kid of venom… werewolf, perhaps, but it's diluted. It looks like the stake has released some claws on the end, which are caught on your ribs." He suddenly noticed a small button on the handle. Going with his gut instinct, he grabbed hold of the stake and pressed down on a small button and the weapon released, allowing him to pull it out in one clean move. He shortly thereafter offered her a glass of blood as she gushed with thanks.

"You are my savior, my love! How can I ever repay you?"

"I'm assuming you'll need a place to stay?" he inquired, pouring her an additional glass. This one she consumed at a slower pace.

"A guest room would be adequate," she assured him. "I wouldn't want to come between you and your pet."

"I don't see that becoming an issue," he replied, mostly under his breath, attending to her wound, making sure it was healing properly.

"You mean she still won't have you?" she asked, trying to hide her amusement.

"I can't tell if she's afraid that intimacy will complicate things or if she feels I'm just incapable of it in general," he confessed. "Although, she may have a point on both counts."

"What's to complicate? It's not like you have feelings for her? You never have any real feelings for anyone, Vladislaus. Even _I_ know better than to expect such a thing from you!" The moment her wound had healed, he rose to his feet a motioned her to follow.

"Come, I'll show you to your room."

She obeyed, but continued to watch him closely, striving to interpret his lack of a real answer.

"_Do _you have feelings for her, my dear Count?" she asked, taking his arm as he led her up the stairs.

"Nothing more than a trifling degree of affection – which is to be expected between the master and his protégé," he insisted. "Anything beyond is madness."

"And yet you haven't taken her," she pointed out. "I don't recall you ever being a patient man. If a conquest was taking too long, you always had ways to help it along."

"I don't desire her like that," he lied, and she saw right through it.

"Your denial won't fool me, Vlad. I know you too well!" she said with a laugh. "She is beautiful enough – deadly too, which I think makes any woman all the more tantalizing. I remember Agnar's ball, seeing her covered in Nicolæ's blood. I don't know how you contained yourself!"

"Think what you will, but you are hopelessly mistaken."

They had reached the guest room and he opened the door for her, ushering her inside.

"I am not!" she proclaimed, inviting him inside. He joined her momentarily, mostly to make sure that everything was to her liking.

"I don't think I've ever seen you like this. It is amiable of you, Vlad, trying to carry on in this platonic relationship you have with her, but I know you, my dear. You're not the kind of man to find satisfaction in any relationship with a woman unless you can possess her utterly and completely – in every sense of the word." Elizabeth made her way over to the window where Vlad was standing and the two noticed Afina in the moonlit gardens below, wandering aimlessly, unaware that she was being watched. Elizabeth thought for a moment. "Is she not interested in men? Is that it?"

This time it was he who laughed. He moved away from the window.

"I'm completely serious!" she insisted. "If she won't have you, I'd love to try my hand at her, with your permission, of course. She's so alluring."

"She's not that kind of woman."

"Every woman has the potential to be _that_ kind of woman," Elizabeth argued. "Pleasure is pleasure, no matter where it comes from. You taught me that."

"I taught you a great many things I wish I hadn't in retrospect," he confessed with light teasing in his eyes.

Elizabeth sauntered over to him, her movements mimicking that of a large feline, calculating and smooth. She wrapped her arms around his neck.

"My poor Vladislaus… wants something he can't have and is trying to take it the honest way. You _have_ grown soft," she purred in his ear, her hand moving boldly between his legs, her fingers slipping behind the waist of his pants. She felt his primal response in her palm and smiled darkly.

"Not all of me," he husked. She relished in the wolfish look of his eyes before leaning in to kiss him. He could feel his hands moving, as if out of habit, making quick work of the laces of her bodice until her lithe form had been released from her gown. Elizabeth began to remove his clothing.

"If you want Afina, then _take_ her," she breathed between kisses.

"It's not that simple," he panted. She took his mouth with hers once again in the way he liked, her hands exploring him without timidity.

"It is _always_ that simple," she insisted, and she caught the cold metal of his gold hoop earring with her tongue and pulled it into her mouth. He knew precisely what she was doing and he didn't care. But Afina's stark words from the night of the masquerade suddenly entered his head as his lover's expert mouth began to shower kisses down his torso, her knees soon finding the floor.

_If you repeat something over and over again, it loses meaning… If you ravish and seduce whatever woman you can get your hands on, and you do that over and over and over again, you lose the beauty, intimacy of making love, of truly connecting with the other person. After a while, it just becomes a mindless habit, passionless motions that mean nothing. The pleasure is hollow. Nothing is forever, Vladislaus. Not with you. It's just monotony, going through the motions, because you've done nothing else for the last four centuries. It means nothing to you. No one means anything to you. I mean nothing to you._

Even with Elizabeth's mouth and expert tongue working her unabashed magic between his legs, it was a struggle for him to stay in the moment. Afina was right – if he had taken her that night, it would have meant nothing to him… just as Elizabeth meant nothing to him in this moment. It took everything in him to push Afina's voice and face out of his head as he moved his old lover to the bed, having his way with her until she came undone several times over in that next lust-filled hour. But the entire time, all he could see was Afina, all he could feel or hear or smell was Afina, and when the pleasure had ebbed and he was left in silence with his sated seductress, the emptiness he felt could have driven him mad if he had let it.

Being the excellent actor that he was, Elizabeth never noticed how truly passionless their interlude had been. She never even heard him leave the room after he had dressed.

Vlad wandered the halls of the palace for what felt like an age, lost in his thoughts, giving mindless instructions to servants. He felt like a machine, all parts and no soul, and for the first time in four-hundred years, that bothered him.

* * *

**_Musical Influences_**  
_A Bleak Journey_, by Christopher Gunning, "Firelight" OST  
_Queen's Chamber_, by Gabriel Yared & Cyrille Aufort, "A Royal Affair" score  
_G and Grey Make Love_, Rachel Portman, "The Duchess"  
_Never Enough_, by Epica, "The Divine Conspiracy"

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: The link that takes you directly to the masquerade playlist has been removed from my profile page and instead I posted the link to my YouTube account, so you'll have access to that, as well as the playlist with the musical influences from this story. I'll continue to post such playlists for any future stories/one-shots, so feel free to check it out! Naturally, not all of the songs are on YouTube (which makes me incredibly sad). Maybe someday I'll figure out how to post those missing songs I own onto YouTube so you can hear them. **

**Also, writing-wise, I'm almost done with this story - which is both sad and incredibly exciting! I never planned on making this story particularly lengthy like my old stories used to be - in many ways, _la douleur exquise _is a warm-up jog, something to get me out of my rustiness so I can move on to other things. I've successfully written up to chapter 14, with the final chapters 15 and 16 and the epilogue outlined, all of which still need to be written and then edited. My goal is to at least have them written out by the end of the week at the latest, this evening at the earliest. Fingers crossed it all works out! I also set up a chapter publishing schedule for myself, so you should expect a new chapter every week on Monday until the story is complete - then I'll probably take a two week hiatus. **

**It was suggested I create a Tumblr blog and post pictures that helped influence this story so you have a visual companion as well. I have a secret board on Pinterest and have considered taking some of those images and putting them on Tumblr. If I actually find the time to do this, I'll give you guys the link. **

**I plan to have a new story up and running the week of Halloween (if everything goes according to plan). The idea came to me rather suddenly over the weekend and I can't stop thinking about it! It'll be very different from what I've done in the past - hopefully not detrimentally ambitious of me, but only time will tell. **

**And yes, a line of dialogue in here was inspired by a _The Vampire Diaries_ episode. I actually didn't really realize I had used the line until someone pointed it out to me, but I like the conversation and I also couldn't think of another way to reword that line because it's such a poignant question on it's own, I couldn't bring myself to change it. But for those of you who notice the line, yes, that's a Klaus line. No copyright infringement intended. I swears... on the precioussss. **

**Anyways, enough of my rambling. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. There's going to be a bit more drama and tension before things begin to sort themselves out, but they will sort themselves out. I promise. Would I lie to you? ;)  
**

**Reviews and feedback are ALWAYS appreciated! **


	11. Unleashed

**Sometimes my life really sucks and it starts to come out in my writing with lots of angst and drama - because a lot of the time, this world I've created with these characters is the only aspect of my life I feel I have any kind of control over. **

**My apologies for the exposition - and, more importantly, for any errors you may find within this chapter.  
**

* * *

**Chapter 11: Unleashed**

Ever since the arrival of Elizabeth Nouveau, Afina hadn't seen much of the Count. They had the briefest of moments alone together, but before they could bring an end to the awkward civilities and actually talk, Elizabeth would enter the room, spoiling the moment.

Afina had no reason to dislike the woman. Elizabeth was incredibly charming, beautiful, talented, and extremely funny – she loved to tease the Count and watching Vlad squirm always made Afina smile. But something nagged in the corner of Afina's mind. She had heard the story of Elizabeth's arrival from the Count, and although Afina never said anything on the subject, she wasn't entirely sure that Miss Nouveau could be trusted.

Although they had been in a casual correspondence with one another for almost a month now, Afina was genuinely surprised when a servant announced that Lucian had arrived at Vilkova. He had arrived a day or two prior to the All Hallows Eve ball, and Afina couldn't have been more grateful to have him present. It not only provided her with an opportunity to _not_ be the third-wheel at dinner, or in any other situation, but it also gave the Count a good deal of time alone with Elizabeth, which is what the woman appeared to want in the first place. Although Afina could not discern the Count's opinion as to whether or not he wanted to be around Elizabeth so much and so often, Afina did her very best to not let their open displays of deviancy bother her.

There were moments in the day when she could hear the two of them in his bedchambers. That still small and secret part of her ached at the sound of Vlad with another woman, but she handled her disappointment with as much grace as she could muster. She knew she had no one to blame but herself, and she accepted the consequences of her decision with equanimity, which left the Count to wonder if she truly felt anything at all.

The longer Elizabeth stayed at Vilkova, the harder it was for Afina to maintain that sense of stoic indifference. She was constantly surrounded, with no real escape. When Elizabeth wasn't with the Count, she took the role of Afina's shadow, following her everywhere she went. At first, it was nice to have a friend or companion who wasn't the Count, but after several evenings, Afina had grown weary of the woman's company. She refused to admit to herself that what she was feeling was of a jealous nature, but she also couldn't seem to shake the uneasiness she felt in the back of her head whenever Elizabeth was near. Miss Nouveau wasn't telling them the whole truth – Afina could sense it. But she couldn't approach Vlad with her suspicions without appearing jealous or insecure, so she kept them to herself.

This made Lucian's arrival all the sweeter, for he provided Afina with exactly what she needed, what she seemed to be lacking from the Count: not just positive attention and wholesome, informal conversation – but a friend. A true friend that she felt she could trust.

Lucian was the best of men – at least in Afina's experience. Yes, he was charming, good-looking, well-bred, with impeccable social skills, but he was also genuine, honest, and affectionate without creating a sense of awkwardness. Within the first evening of his stay, he had become Afina's new confidant. At first, they had discussed the details of the Áki bloodline, of her uncle Dragoş, and his close companions – Dragoş' wife Raynora, Mikael, his wife Anneke, and Zane. Lucian delivered Dragoş' compliments, and expressed his eagerness to meet his niece, who by all accounts was a credit to her late father. It was strange to Afina, knowing that she had family, a family that was so eager to know her better – a good kind of strange.

The evening before the All Hallows Eve ball found Afina with Lucian in the gardens of Vilkova. The palace itself was ornate, standing tall on a hill that overlooked the city, with the mountains and forest behind it. That particular evening was cool and clear, the stars perfectly visible, even with the bright moon above them. They were walking rather aimlessly through the various paths, deep in conversation.

"I don't understand him," Afina confided. "That year we spent together before he brought me into society, he was so different then – even if he was using me. He listened to me, trusted my judgment, respected me, even. But ever since we arrived in Budapest, it's like he's a different man."

"Maybe it's the city that brings out the old him," Lucian offered. "The man you describe is a very different Vladislaus from the one most of us have known. Perhaps when you were his only influence, you brought out the best in him. And now that he has had a taste of his old life, he's struggling to balance the two."

"What was he like? Before Van Helsing arrived all those years ago?"

"The most powerful man in Europe," he stated simply. "He had everything. Wealth, prestige, authority, and so much promise. Everyone had been rather skeptical when he took Verona, Marishka, and Aleera as his brides. A member of each bloodline – it was unheard of. And when we learned of his experiments, that he had plans to bring their deceased children to life – the Count may appear cold and without feeling at times, but nothing was more important to him than family. And in many ways, all of the bloodlines were his family. He wanted the best for us, wanted us to be united. We flourished a great deal under him. Even if some of his methods to unite us were controversial."

"What do you mean?"

"He had found a way to connect all the vampires of a single line to one solitary being. He managed to do it to his own bloodline and when the others had heard of his success, they feared he had gone too far."

"But I thought each vampire was already connected to the head of their bloodline?"

"No – that's a myth. If that were true, I would have perished when your father had been destroyed by the Order. No soul is bound to another, unless by some kind of outside force. He had found a way to bind all those in his bloodline to himself, hoping their unity could be more than just symbolic. By this point in his life, he was very sure of himself, certain that no man – living or otherwise – could destroy him. I don't think he ever imagined the kind of devastation that would follow if he was indeed destroyed."

"I understand that Lucas Craven leads a band of vampires that is in league with the Holy Order, that they were the ones responsible for the Order's presence in Transylvania. Why would they risk the destruction of an entire line if they knew so many were bound to Vlad?"

"Perhaps to prove a point – that no man, or woman, should ever be the master of the destinies of an entire race. Combining the bloodlines, binding them to a single person, although idyllic in theory is never wise when the destruction of that single person could be the means of genocide. It was originally proposed that Alrik or Dragoş be that single person – as they are immune to the traditional methods that destroy our kind. Dracula, at the time anyway, was still subject to werewolf venom."

"And now? If he were to try to do so again?"

"If Alrik, the oldest of our kind, can be destroyed, then even Dracula himself is not safe."

"I've tried to warn him," Afina insisted. "But he won't take Craven or the Order seriously. He's more concerned with this stupid ball."

"I take it you're not one for parties," he laughed.

"It's not that. Dressing up and dancing the night away is always a great pleasure. But when the situation is as it is – with the Order, and even some of our own kind, at our door, threatening our very existence. I honestly don't understand how he can just ignore that."

"This ball could prove very important, my dear," he reminded her. "It will be the first time in almost ten years when the heads of all the bloodlines will be in the same place at the same time."

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of," she confided. "I can't shake the feeling that something dreadful is about to happen. That Craven or the Order have something up their sleeve. I haven't even had the chance to meet my uncle, my family, my _people_… and already, someone is threatening to take them away from me."

"Have you told him your concerns?" Lucian inquired taking a seat on the edge of a fountain as Afina paced in front of him.

"Of course I have, but he won't listen."

"And why is that?"

"Probably to punish me for rejecting his advances," she answered spitefully. "That's another thing. There was always that tension between us before, but he always respected me before we came to Budapest. Now I feel like some kind of conquest of his. It's like he's denying me the relationship we had before because I refuse to submit to him."

"That's very possible. Dracula has never taken rejection from a woman he esteems very well."

"I just don't understand why he feels the need to treat me like that – like I'm any other woman. I'm _not_ any other woman!"

"Do you think it may be because of his past reputation?" Lucian offered. "He was very notorious for his conquests, and here you are, the first woman in all of history – his history, that is – who has managed to not only reject any advances made, but before arriving, your relationship was, by all accounts, very neutral and platonic. That is most unlike him. Perhaps when his peers began to point that out, it started to change the way he looked at you. Perhaps before, he only viewed you as a companion, or – perhaps – as a necessary pawn in a greater scheme?"

The suggestion did not sit well with Afina, but it also made the most sense.

"Forgive me, my dear, but I must be frank with you. Count Dracula is not the kind of man that treats a woman, or anyone else for that matter, as true equal. His entire life, he has been superior to most and on par with a select few. You're the first woman whom he has ever treated with that kind of equality. And I honestly don't think he had anticipated that. I've heard the way he speaks of you – always in the highest regard, and for things he has never noted in any woman. To be perfectly blunt, I don't believe he knows what to do with himself in regards to you."

"Why can't we just carry on as we did before, though? Why does it have to change?"

"Because he not only views you as a person and as an equal anymore, Afina. I think he sees you as a woman now, and his instincts are telling him that because you're a woman, you need to be claimed, conquered, whatever word you prefer. You're new territory to him and he's probably not sure _how _to proceed."

"I'm flattered that you think so highly of me, Lucian, but no doubt you've heard the way he and Elizabeth carry on during the day. I sincerely doubt he thinks so highly of me as you appear to."

"Don't misunderstand me, my dear. Although your situation and relationship with him may be unique, _you_ are not perfect. I've met many other women in my lifetime that could outshine you in looks, intelligence, temperament, and breeding. But even with your imperfections, you are an extraordinary woman, and an even more extraordinary vampire, my dear. He obviously feels some connection to you that he cannot explain away – try as he might."

"But instead of explaining it away, he's trying to screw it away? Is that what you're suggesting?" she inquired archly.

"Maybe?" he teased as she sat down beside him. "We are all creatures of habit, my dear, and he and Elizabeth have a long and sordid history."

"Why did he never make Elizabeth one of his brides?" Afina suddenly inquired. "The two are compatible enough."

"There was a time when she wanted to be his bride – badly. She did whatever she could to prove herself to him, but he would not have her – not like that."

"Any idea why?"

"He and I never discussed his relationships personally, but I remember your father mentioning it to me once. Apparently, as fond as he was of Elizabeth, the Count felt she could not be trusted."

"But I thought he never trusted anyone in the first place?"

"He doesn't – never explicitly, anyway. I don't wish to speak ill of the woman – I hardly know her – but Elizabeth is notorious for doing things that only benefit her. She'll never subject herself to anything or anyone unless she has something to gain."

Lucian's words left Afina feeling very unsettled suddenly.

"Tell me, what is her relationship with Craven like?"

"Craven is her favorite plaything," he said with a laugh.

"Why do you say that?"

"Even with his disagreements with the Count, Craven had been an honorable man once upon a time, until he met Elizabeth. They met in Versailles, some time under the reign of Louis XV. That's all I really recall. They moved from court to court, competing with one another to see who could seduce the most courtiers at any given time. A fairly scandalous tradition they carried on in for many years – I suppose until recently."

"Has Craven ever cared for Elizabeth?"

"You mean has he ever loved her? Not in the way he loved Marishka, no. But he has always been very protective of Elizabeth, has cared for her a great deal, especially whenever she runs into any kind of trouble. And she for him."

"Do you think Elizabeth would ever leave Craven? Permanently?"

"I doubt it. Why do you ask?"

Afina turned to look behind her at the great palace that shadowed the gardens, a hint of concern in her eyes.

"No reason," she lied, offering him a smile.

"If you're worried about her stealing the Count away, allow me to reassure you. Count Dracula and Miss Nouveau's paths always seem to cross now and again through the years, but she always finds her way back to Lord Craven," Lucian explained. "I doubt she'll be around for much longer."

She understood his implications, and appreciated his kindness, but Afina wasn't really concerned with how long Elizabeth would be sleeping with the Count. What she feared was that the woman's presence was putting Dracula in some horrible, untold danger.

Afina kept her concerns to herself, however, for the present, as she and Lucian made their way back into the house. They entered by way of the ballroom, which had been lavishly decorated, the parquet floors with their intricate details cleaned and polished to such a degree, that had she been human, she could have seen her reflection in the floor. The walls were covered with tapestries and gilded moldings in the shape of crowns. The entire room screamed of decadence and unbelievable wealth, everything hinted with gold and scarlet.

For the briefest of moments, Afina forgot her concerns, so in awe with the room, she soon found herself spinning around with a delighted smile on her face.

"It's so beautiful," she exclaimed, her head craned back so she could look at the mural on the ceiling with the enormous unlit chandelier reflecting the light of the moon outside.

"The servants did an excellent job," Lucian agreed. As Afina allowed herself to soak in the magical beauty of the room, Lucian made his way over to the orchestra seats where he began to play a waltz on the piano.

"You play?" she asked him.

"Of course I do! Being around for as long as I have – what else am I supposed to do with my time?" he teased. Afina began to waltz with herself, grinning from ear to ear.

"I don't know. Travel the world?"

"Done."

"Write a book?"

"I've written several."

"Invent something."

"Who do you think invented the harpsichord?" he asked as one of the orchestra members appeared, offering to play for him, which Lucian graciously agreed to, making his way over to Afina who was still dancing by herself.

"You didn't!" she laughed.

"I am the world's best kept secret," he teased, offering his hand to her, which she accepted, and he pulled her into a fast-paced waltz which contrasted nicely with the song the pianist was now playing. It was deceptively languorous, especially when a cellist joined in.

"Have you fallen in love?" she asked him with a smile. "No one has truly lived until they have loved."

"I have had three great loves," Lucian explained.

"Any of them vampires?"

"No, all of them were humans. My first was my wife when I was still mortal - Ástriđr. Such a fiery, passionate woman, with hair as gold as a field of wheat. The second was a Chinese princess – Lanying; gentle, mysterious, and a true empath. She felt everything so deeply, never by halves."

"Who was the third?"

"A native American girl that I met during my travels in the western part of that continent in a land that what was recently made a state – Washington I think is what the Americans call it now?"

"What was her name?"

"Aponi," he said with a reminiscent sigh. "The most beautiful woman I ever saw – with raven hair, flawless bronze skin, and eyes that pierced the soul. She was the greatest love of my cursed existence."

"What happened to her?"

"She died – like all of them did," Lucian explained with deep remorse. "If life has taught me anything it is that love, even real love, doesn't last forever. Death claims us all in the end. When you live as long as I have, Afina, it becomes easy to lose purpose, to have nothing to live for. Those women, my greatest loves, gave me something to live for. But in order to love, we have to open ourselves up to the inevitable hurt and pain that always comes. That's why so many wander through their lives alone, because they feel unworthy of such a love, they're too afraid to risk their hearts. Love isn't just bliss or elation or happiness… love is also pain, but an exquisite pain, nonetheless."

"Do you ever regret it? Opening yourself up like that, not just once, but three times?"

"Never," he answered passionately, spinning her once before pulling her close again. "That elation and that pain are the only things that make me forget that I'm undead. It makes me feel like I'm alive again. And I would gladly go through it all over again to feel that way once more."

"A true romantic, then?" she asked with a gentle smile.

"Until the bitter end," he assured her, his face close to hers. As he moved her with expertise throughout the room, his cheek softly pressed against hers, she allowed herself to relish in his tenderness, the gentleness of his touch, closing her eyes as he led her across the dance floor. It felt so good, being in his arms, and for the briefest of moments, Afina almost lost herself to the music and his touch, until she noticed the Count out of the corner of her eye.

He was standing alone in the shadows of the upper level of the ballroom, watching them closely with an expression she couldn't read, but his eyes never left her as Lucian continued to spin and turn her about the room, oblivious to the eyes that were observing them.

As much as Afina adored Lucian's company, in that moment, she wanted nothing more than to be dancing with Vlad, with his hand in hers, his other hand resting comfortably in the middle of her back, between her shoulder blades.

The thought of his skin touching hers sent a blush to her cheek as she imagined that very same hand moving down her naked spine; the hand in hers moving over the flesh of her arm in a slow, tantalizing sweep, over her shoulder, down her collarbone, the tips of his fingers caressing their way down to the valley between her breasts; his lips brushing against her temple, over her hear, down her neck… she could almost feel the tips of his fangs against her neck.

The fantasy sent a jolt of electricity through her and she accidentally stepped on Lucian's foot mid-step, shattering the moment between them.

"I'm so sorry," she apologized, releasing his hand and stepping out of his arms.

"No harm done," Lucian assured her with a smile. He looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to return to his arms so they could continue to dance, but her eyes had moved to the spot where she had noticed Dracula earlier. He was gone, but even with his absence, she couldn't bring herself to dance with Lucian any more. All she could think of was Vlad, how much danger he was in, how much she wanted to keep him safe… how much a part of her wanted him, even though reason told her she shouldn't.

She quickly thanked Lucian for the dance and excused herself before he could make an effort to get her to stay. Afina made her way out of the ballroom with controlled haste, shutting the door behind her, her eyes quickly scanning about the hall. She located the stairs and moved up to the second floor with unnatural speed, struggling to locate Vlad. She heard the low murmur of his voice in the library, accompanied by Elizabeth's giggling and she opened the double doors to find them seated on a sofa rather intimately, both surprised by her sudden intrusion.

"Afina!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "I was wondering when Lucian would decide to share you with the rest of us."

"I need to talk to you," Afina said to Dracula, getting straight to the point. "Alone, if you wouldn't mind?" she then explained to Elizabeth as kindly as she could.

"Of course," the woman replied graciously, beginning to stand, but the Count held her in her place at his side.

"No, stay," he insisted, his eyes never leaving Afina's. "Whatever she has to say to me, she can say in front of you."

"I'd prefer to do this in private, Vlad."

"I really don't mind," Elizabeth contended, but Dracula was adamant. There was a dark anger in his eyes that Afina did not like, a stubbornness and a jealousy that she immediately noted.

Was he trying to punish her now for her dance with Lucian? She could have smacked him. This was getting ridiculous!

"I must insist," Afina maintained, but the Count would not budge. "Fine," she snapped. "I have reason to believe that you're in danger," she began.

Her proclamation was met with a chuckle from the Count and giggling from Elizabeth, but Afina continued.

"You will have all of the elders present at your ball tomorrow evening. It would be the perfect opportunity for Craven or the Order to make their move."

Elizabeth's giggling became more incessant.

"Afina, don't be ridiculous," Dracula groaned.

"I also have reason to believe that Elizabeth is here on false pretenses."

That put an end to the laughter. Elizabeth looked affronted and the Count looked furious.

"My gut tells me that she is working for Craven. She didn't come here to seek your protection; she came here to secure you. To make sure you wouldn't be a problem when Craven and his…"

"That is quite enough!" Vlad interrupted, standing suddenly and positively furious. "How dare you insult one of my guests!"

"I told you that I wanted to speak to you in private," she reminded him, but he would have none of it.

"That is no excuse!"

"Have you not heard a word I've said? This ball you care so much about, these guests you're so eager to schmooze, to wine and dine with – all of them, all of you are in danger! You cannot trust this woman!"

"I said that is enough," he said in dangerous tones, taking a step toward her.

"If you don't take the trouble to check her story, you could be responsible for another slaughter!"

"ENOUGH!"

His shout was more of a roar, and though the fury in his face frightened her, she continued to hold her ground.

"Do you trust me?" she asked him in hushed tones.

"Afina…" His voice was almost a groan of frustration.

"Do. You. Trust me?" she repeated.

They looked at one another for some time, holding the gaze of the other until Dracula's eyes diverted and he looked away.

"No," was his answer.

That single syllable crushed her in ways she had not anticipated. It was like being stabbed in the heart or kicked in the stomach. It quite literally knocked the wind out of her. After everything she had done for him, everything she had sacrificed – this was how he repaid her?

After several seconds of awkward silence, Dracula continued.

"Afina, I release you from our blood pact," he said, his words twisting that invisible blade so it tore at her heart. "Your uncle will arrive for the ball tomorrow evening and when the time comes, you will leave with him and you will never return to this place again. Is that understood?"

"Vlad, don't be ridiculous…." Elizabeth interjected, but she was silenced with a single look. When his gaze moved back to Afina's, he repeated his question.

"Is that understood?"

She was all ice, her blue eyes frozen over in a stoic expression of indifference.

"Perfectly… _master_," she replied evenly. The title at the end was venomous and it stung. He looked away from her, unable to stand under her impenetrable gaze.

"You are excused."

Afina exited with unnatural grace, appearing unaffected by his dismissal of her. She kept that façade as she exited the palace, taking off into the sky. She was a whirlpool of emotions in that moment – primarily fury and hatred. With every passing moment, her blood seemed to boil more and more until she couldn't stand the maddening frustration any longer. Locating a small band of nomads in the forest, she swooped down into the center of the encampment, her eyes black as pitch. Her nails had grown into sharp talons and she bared her fangs in provocation, daring anyone to attack her.

The moment one of the men raised a dagger to defend himself, she lunged forward, tearing off his head with a clean swipe of her hand. His blood splattered all over her face as the artery burst and she let her bloodlust consume every fiber of her being until it saturated her brain and all she could see was red. She massacred every last soul in the encampment, every man, woman, and child – even the horses that were tied helplessly to the tree. She tore out hearts and spines, eviscerated, even strangled a man with his own intestines.

She drank their blood until she couldn't feel anything anymore, and when every heart had ceased to beat, soaked in the blood of the innocent, Afina let out an unearthly cry as she stared up at the night sky before collapsing in the mud.

The guilt of what she had just done hit her like a boulder to the face, but it was overshadowed by the pain she felt as her heart ached.

She had been so afraid to let herself feel it before, but she couldn't deny it any longer – her admiration and affection for Count Dracula ran much deeper than she had ever intended, even with his bad temper and his insufferable conceit. God forgive her, she cared, and her heart ached at the thought that he didn't trust her the way she still continued to trust him, despite the way he had used her.

She hated this side of him with a passion, hated that she cared so much and against her better judgment. She loathed her conscience and her inherent sense of morality that had caused this rift between them in the first place, she loathed her existence as a vampire even more. She wished she had died in the snow that night Nicolæ had attacked her. Even more, she wished her mother had never conceived her, that she had never gone to work for the Order, that these two sides of her would stop tearing her apart. She longed for relief, and even more, she longed the man that she knew was inside of the Count, a man she could not have. She tried to suppress that hopelessly romantic side of her, but she couldn't shut it up, it was so loud. She didn't want to hurt anymore. She didn't want to feel anything. No more guilt, no more pain, no more conflict – if only there was a way to turn it all off. The argument that the undead feel nothing she quickly realized was the biggest lie ever told. She felt _everything_ and it was destroying her.

How easily he had dismissed her! As if it were not struggle for him in the slightest! He clearly trusted Elizabeth more than he trusted Afina and this knowledge only wounded her. After everything they had been through together – their adventures, their trials, all of it. In the end, it appeared to mean nothing to him.

Afina laid there, alone in the forest for several hours until she noticed the sun beginning to rise. She gathered the mutilated bodies of those she had murdered in her rage, piling them on top of their belongings before lighting it all on fire just as the sun peaked over the horizon, continuing to rise into the sky.

When she arrived back at the palace, she felt numb, moving like a ghost through the slumbering house and slipping into her bedchambers. She bathed herself in silence, washing the blood and the filth from her skin with the blankest of expressions, her eyes void of light or life.

Having cleaned herself of the filth, she shortly thereafter climbed into bed, staring up at the ceiling, wracking her brain for some idea, some plan she could execute. She was not the kind of woman that would stand by and be so easily dismissed.

She could hear the Count and Elizabeth in a distant room on the other side of the house, lost once more in the throes of passion. She could almost feel his every moan, every grunt and sigh, as if he were lying beside her, and her skin ached to be touched. But then her ears caught the sound of Elizabeth's voice as she continued to wrap the Count around her finger. Afina's gut instinct told her that Elizabeth was in league with Craven, and she didn't care what it took, she was going to prove it tomorrow night – one way or the other.

She would save Vlad, even though he didn't deserve it. And she'd leave with her uncle as soon as the deed was done.

* * *

**Notes for YOU! -**

**Item 1: So, remember that thing I said last week about updating this story every week and how the story was technically all done (writing wise) and that I was pretty much in the process of revisions? Well... that was true, for several days, actually. Until Friday/Saturday rolled around and I was assaulted with inspiration, not for the new story I'm planning, but for this one. We'll see if any of it pans out - part of me wants to write the additional scenes and chapters for the sake of character development, but I lack the motivation to change what I've already created, even though I know what I currently have could definitely be improved. We'll see how it goes, but if I do end up writing more, it could cause some bumps in my otherwise fabulous publishing schedule - which could mean a week or two without updates. **

**Item 2: I had published a one-shot about mid-week last week and after about six hours of it being live on the site, I decided to remove it (for personal reasons - mainly because the piece was really dark and had taken a life of its own when I had been writing it and what it told me about myself unnerved me) - so for those of you who asked, no the site didn't take it down, I did. Sorry for the confusion! **

**Item 3: ****There is a link in my profile that will take you to my YouTube channel where the playlist for this story is located. It has been updated with the songs from this chapter. Also, I managed to create a visual companion to this story via Tumblr - that is also linked in my profile. Obviously, I don't take credit for any of the images in that blog. **

_**Musical Influences:**_  
_The Hunter and the Game_, by Clint Mansell, "Stoker" OST_  
My Skin_, by Natalie Merchant, "Ophelia"  
_The Undertaker (Renholder Mix)_, Puscifer, "Underworld: Evolution" OST_  
Angels in the Snow_, by Johnny Klimek and Reinhold Heil, "Blood & Chocolate" score  
_Unleashed_, by Epica, "Design Your Universe"


	12. All Hallow's Eve

**Please forgive any errors I may have overlooked - grammatical or otherwise. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 12: All Hallow's Eve  
**

An ornate palace door standing twelve feet tall and plated in gold stood as the grand entrance to Vilkova. Hauntingly beautiful music seemed to pour out of the palace, wrapping its ethereal tentacles around the guests that stood on the front step before pulling them inside. The interior of the palace was lavishly decorated, the furniture antique and in the best taste. Guests came and went in the hallway, some dressed in extravagant gowns or tuxes, others merely in dark robes – no doubt the very richest of vampire nobility. The entire scene smacked of unbelievable wealth and decadence.

On the far end of the foyer, beneath the dual grand staircase, were two enormous doors, each held open by a masked servant, those doors serving as the entrance to an impressive grand ballroom, full of revelers. There was an orchestra playing a fairly recent composition of a local composer and the song had just the slightest touch of dissonance to it that made it spellbinding.

There were gypsy performers and acrobats entertaining some of the guests, while others conversed or danced. On the far left of the room was an open door that led to a banquet hall where the lithe bodies of scantily clad women and extraordinarily handsome young men, each in their prime, were bound to tables – all under a spell that left them heady and disorientated as guests took turns feasting on the freshest blood ever served at an event. Everything about this extravagant gathering was both decadent and depraved – the finest pleasures that money could buy.

Count Dracula was busy making his rounds with Elizabeth on his arm as he greeted each of his guests. It was the ones of power and influence that he was particularly keen to meet with, and although they greeted him with pleasure and cordiality, one right after the other would ask after Afina, eager to meet or at least catch a glimpse of the infamous daughter of Alrik of the noble Áki bloodline. Even Agnar and his family were keen to see the Count's recently discharged protégé – although they were all unaware of what had transpired between the two just last night.

The first couple of times one of his guests asked after the "legendary" and "exquisite" Afina, he dismissed it. But after the ninth guest, it was starting to grate on his nerves. He hadn't seen her since last night in the library, and he never heard her come home after leaving the place shortly thereafter. When he noticed that Dragoş, Afina's uncle, had arrived all the way from Norway and there was still no sign of her, he began to worry; particularly when the other elders – Vigdís of the Thurstan bloodline, and twins Adnraste and Reunan of the Selkirk line – began to inquire after her.

He noticed Lucian standing at the foot of the stairs that led to the second level, conversing with Dorina – Agnar's daughter.

"Lucian, have you seen Afina?" he asked as casually as he could.

"No, not since earlier this evening. She had just returned from town."

"What on earth was she doing in the city?"

"She said she needed a dress."

"She _has_ a dress!"

"Oh?"

"It was purchased nearly three weeks ago!"

"Well, you know women, Count. One minute they like what they're wearing, and the next, it makes them look fat, or it's too long or too short or whatever the issue may be," Lucian said with a laugh before nodding his head in acknowledgement to Elizabeth who excused herself, having been approached by a young looking man who was now leading her onto the dance floor.

"Yes, undoubtedly," Vlad relented with a grumble, indifferent to Elizabeth's departure.

"Was it the gold and ivory gown?" Dorina chimed in. "The one that kind of bled into a soft blush pink at the end? With all the pretty gold beading and detailing?"

"Yes," Dracula confirmed. "It cost a fortune to make."

"I loved that gown! Such a pity that she chose not to wear it. Though I don't think it signifies what she wears. Afina always looks beautiful."

"I couldn't agree more, my little sister," Andrei interjected, appearing suddenly. "Lucian, it is always a pleasure," and the two men bowed slightly to one another. "Count – this is an excellent party! My congratulations to you, sir."

"Thank you," Vlad replied, trying to mask his vexation with civility.

"I was just speaking to Vigdís. Charming woman. Haven't seen her in nearly twenty years!" he exclaimed. "She's most eager to meet the daughter of Alrik. You haven't seen Afina anywhere, have you?"

Dracula nearly lost it.

"No, we were just telling the Count that she has yet to make an appearance," Lucian explained.

"Well that's a pity. She promised me a dance and it's nearly midnight," Andrei replied.

"She is trying to ruin me," Dracula grumbled under his breath.

"She is not trying to ruin you, Count. The party has barely begun. She'll be down soon, I'm certain," Lucian assured him.

"Shall I go to her chambers and make sure everything is alright?" Dorina offered.

"If you'd be so kind," the Count relented with an impatient sigh.

"No need, sister. I see she's already here."

"Where?"

"Over there. It would appear she's being introduced to Vigdís."

The Count followed Andrei's directed gaze and soon stopped when his eyes fell upon the pair. Vigdís, the head of her bloodline, was a stunning woman, forever in her late twenties, with luscious blonde hair that was pulled up elegantly. She was in a beautiful blue gown with off-the-shoulder straps and an open back. The satin was encrusted with Swarovski crystals from top to bottom. And although she was a reputed beauty, in that moment, all the Count could see was Afina.

She was breathtaking.

Her hair was open – a bold move – and curled, the dark russet locks cascading delicately down her bare back. The gown she wore was blood red silk, the bodice ruched with a single strap over her right shoulder that barely hung on; a single movement would have sent it down her arm. The rest of the gown fell elegantly to the ground, hugging her feminine figure intimately and in all the right places. Her throat was bare, but her ears donned a pair of ornate ruby earrings, just as blood red as her gown, and her lips were rouged to perfection. That was the second time Vlad had been taken aback by her beauty, but this time felt intensified by the fact that he had essentially banished her just the night before. She wasn't even gone and he could already feel the loss of her presence.

He tried not to look long at her, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. She was like the sun; whenever he tried to look away he could still see her. He could have kicked himself for his rash behavior last night, but the proposition that Elizabeth could be a traitor was ludicrous to him and having watched Afina with Lucian last night in the ballroom… part of him wanted to excuse his poor behavior, but he could not. He had been in the wrong, as much as he hated to admit it to himself.

Vigdís appeared enchanted by Afina, who was all warmth, smiles, and grace without a single air of false dignity. Dracula, Lucian, Andrei, and Dorina watched in silent fascination as Vigdís led Afina over to the company where the remainder of the elders stood conversing. She introduced Afina first to the Selkirk twins – Reunan and his sister Adnraste – both fiery, red-headed Celts that greeted the newcomer with genuine pleasure. But it was her introduction to Dragoş that was the most moving.

Dragoş was a tall man, with the body and air of a battle-worn warrior, if the scar that ran along the corner of his left eye wasn't evidence enough. His hair was a dark brown, his beard natural looking, yet well-kept. Dark brows framed eyes that were the most unearthly green, with dark lashes that almost gave the appearance of artificial liner – like a pirate or rogue. He was incredibly handsome – in the tall, dark, and dangerous kind of way – but the sense of familiarity that passed between him and Afina was something that had never been witnessed before between Dragoş and a new acquaintance.

After Vigdís made the introduction, Dragoş looked at Afina for several long moments before stepping forward to embrace her. Although the action clearly took her by surprise, she returned the gesture by wrapping her arms around his neck. Dracula watched as a single tear escaped the man's eye and ran down Afina's bare back before disappearing in the fabric of her gown. Everyone who witnessed the embrace was moved. When Dragoş released her, she wore the most radiant smile Vlad had ever seen on her face and part of him wished that such a smile had been for him. Afina was shortly introduced to the rest of the company, and she socialized with a delightful animation in her eyes and expression, while maintaining an almost effortless grace.

He couldn't catch what she was telling the company of elders due to the loud music and the sound of other conversations in the room, but when he saw his name on her lips and watched in something that felt a great deal like horror as the eyes of the elders fell upon him after scanning the room. He tried to hide the fact that he had been watching them, but it was proving difficult as Lucian, Andrei, and Dorina were all busy staring as well. When the eyes left him to return to Afina, Vlad felt Lucian's hand on his shoulder.

"Well done, Count. Well done."

"Yes, there's no way they can refuse to help you now," Andrei added.

"Brother, I believe Father is trying to get your attention," Dorina replied, motioning with her eyes to the other side of the room where Agnar and Miruna were standing. The young man excused himself, and soon Lucian asked Dorina to dance, leaving Dracula alone to watch Afina from a distance.

He couldn't believe how well his protégé was handling it all, her every movement so natural. He couldn't help but feel pride as he watched her, mingling with the oldest and most esteemed members of the vampire race with relative ease. He could see the hallmarks of his work in her – everything about her movements, her smiles, even down to how she presented herself this evening was calculated. He had taught her well – a little too well, he thought to himself, for he was falling for his own tricks.

He knew why she had gone through the trouble of purchasing a new gown – she knew that red was his favorite color, silk his favorite material on a woman, and wearing her hair down in public, and at a ball, was an action that was both bold and openly intimate. Yes, he knew exactly what she was doing – this was her response to his hasty banishment. She was going to make him realize exactly what he was giving up, and God help him, he received that message loud and clear.

In that moment, he couldn't think of any other woman standing beside him as his queen, or even as his companion. She complimented him in so many ways, not that it should have surprised him. She had been right in her accusations a few nights ago when she had pointed out that he had created her in his own image. But what an image!

No, even with all of his hard work appearing to pay off in front of him, he knew she wasn't anything like his brides of old. Afina wasn't made to be subservient to anyone, he could see that now as she continued to converse so easily with the upper crust of vampire society as if they were all old friends. She was a natural-born leader, in her own quiet way. She knew who she was, what she was worth, and that kind of confidence was something Vlad found wonderfully attractive. She didn't need him in the way of most women and it was a strange, but refreshing change. She could hold her own just fine – he could see that now.

As he continued to stand at the foot of the stair, leaning slightly against the railing, he began to imagine to himself what it would be like to have her with him always – he imagined her as a hostess of a party just like this one, as his companion, her arm wrapped around his. He imagined storming the gates of the Vatican in Rome with her at his side, of the destruction of the Holy Order and of Gabriel Van Helsing; he could see the blood in his mind, could almost taste it. And he imagined kissing her at the end of it all.

His lips longed to feel hers once again. It had been roughly two years since she had kissed him that night, her last night as a human. He could still recall the desperation in her kisses, the timidity and the longing for abandon. The memory sent a delightful shiver through his body and he had to look away from her for a moment, afraid that the intensity of his stare would somehow burn her flesh.

He knew in that moment that he couldn't let her leave him – not like this. It was clear his bellator didn't like Elizabeth and he was willing to give the woman up this very evening if it would keep Afina in his life. He'd give up his ambitions to siege Rome if she asked him to. He'd take her back to Castle Dracula deep in the icy mountains of Transylvania and spend eternity in celibacy if it meant having her with him always.

Okay, maybe celibacy was taking it a little too far, he mused to himself, his eyes finding her again and running lazily over her body. He had an eternity to seduce her and the prospect of learning what made her tick, what turned her on, what little nooks and crannies of her flesh were the most sensitive – it sent him reeling.

It would be difficult to abandon his ambitions, his desire for power and prestige, but he'd do it for Afina. Without even realizing it, he found himself moving toward her, as if his subconscious had control over his feet. He realized too late what he was doing and before he could vanish into the crowd, he was spotted by Dragoş who called out to him.

"Vladislaus! My old friend!" the vampire exclaimed. "The man who found my brother's child, my precious niece." He shook Dracula's hand firmly and pulled him closer to the company. "I don't think I'll ever be able to thank you enough, Count."

"No thanks are necessary, Dragoş," he assured him, desperately struggling to _not_ look at Afina. "I'm just pleased that the two of you could be reunited." He glanced at her for a single moment, trying to gauge her feelings but he couldn't read her, try as he might. She had put up an impenetrable wall and he couldn't seem to get around it. She had never felt so beyond his reach before. And with the dreams of a fantasy future still swirling about in his head, her distance bothered him a great deal in a way that surprised himself. He needed to fix things between them – the sooner the better. He couldn't bear the thought of not having her as his ally. She had always been so loyal to him, especially when he didn't deserve it. Was that loyalty still there, he wondered?

"She looks just like Alrik," Dragoş exclaimed affectionately. "Those eyes… It's as though he is standing here in front of me. He would have been so proud of her."

"She is a credit to him," Vlad agreed.

"A credit to all of us!" Raynora, Dragoş' wife chimed in, raising her glass of blood to toast the young woman.

"Raynora, it is a pleasure to see you," and Vlad kissed her offered hand. He greeted the others before Dragoş'continued.

"You know, I almost didn't believe Lucian when he told me about her. But now that I see her… how could it ever be doubted?"

"Indeed!" Vigdís agreed, taking Afina's arm and wrapping it around hers affectionately. "And she already has quite the reputation for one so young!"

"It's true! From the moment we crossed over the border, we began to hear the tales of how ruthless of a hunter she is!" Reunan confirmed. "Lucian was telling us that you were trained by the Order? Is that true?"

"It is," Afina replied. "But my abilities were greatly refined under the tutorage of the Count."

"Naturally. Vlad was an excellent soldier in his time," Vigdís added. "And quite the duelist!"

"What weapon do you prefer?" Adnraste inquired. "The sabre, like your mentor? I've always loved the bow."

"I prefer my hands," was Afina's answer, "but the Count made certain that I was proficient in all weaponry."

That was the second time she had referred to Vlad as _the Count_, a title she rarely used, and often only in teasing. But the way she said it now had the faintest hint of sarcasm in it, as if the title were more a poniard than a symbol of respect. She had always called him by his name, and oh how he missed the sound of it in that moment. But everything she said about him was positive and full of regard. She could have easily torn him down in front of his guests, but she wasn't.

"The Order doesn't stand a chance!" Dragoş was beaming with pride. "It's that Áki blood in her – ancient warrior blood."

"Hear, hear!" Reunan exclaimed, lifting his glass of blood to Afina in a toast. "We're going to need that warrior blood if we expect to beat the Order."

"Then am I to understand that you mean to join us?" Dracula inquired with mild disbelief. "You will help us disband Rome?"

"Of course we shall!" Reunan cried. "I, for one, grow weary of peace. We could use a good war!"

"I couldn't agree more," his sister replied and they all raised their glasses.

"Besides, after what they've taken from you, Vlad, from all of us, it is the least we could do," Vigdís explained sympathetically.

"I don't know what to say," Vlad confessed, astonished and moved that these noble elders were so eager to come to his aid and fight alongside him. They didn't owe him any allegiance and yet they were willing to risk so much to fight an enemy that had long threatened their existence. He didn't know what Afina had said to convince them, and he didn't care.

He owed her.

And part of him suspected that she knew it, clever woman.

"If you must thank someone, you must thank Afina," Vigdís said with a warm smile in Afina's direction. "This one has had nothing but the highest praise for you and your cause. I've never heard a speech so passionate. How could we not band together and join you with such compliments and confidence laid at our feet?"

This confirmation of what he had already assumed moved Dracula immensely, and even he, with his superior acting skills, couldn't hide that fact. His dead heart seemed to swell in his chest with an adoration and pride that he had never felt before. If they weren't still fighting, he could have kissed Afina right then and there for the whole world to see. But in that, he was at least able to control himself. For the first time that evening, a genuine smile spread across his face as he and Dragoş shook hands, sealing their pact.

"I look forward to fighting alongside you, old friend," Dragoş confessed. "No matter the outcome."

"As do I," Dracula replied. "Now enough talk of war. This is a celebration! Please, enjoy yourselves!"

"Oh have no fear, we shall!" he was assured.

The music stopped as the dance ended and the guests began to prepare for the next number. Dragoş immediately turned to the Count.

"Vladislaus, my niece informed me that she has yet to have the pleasure of dancing this evening. I would be honored if you took her hand for this number."

Afina and Dracula looked at one another with a mutual tentativeness. Vlad desperately tried to hide how awkward he suddenly felt and Afina appeared deeply amused by it, eager to see how he would react.

"The honor would be all mine," he insisted, offering his hand to her. He half expected her to refuse him in front of everyone – he wouldn't have blamed her if she had. But she surprised him once again by taking his hand, allowing him to lead her onto the dance floor. Count Dracula wasn't accustomed to feeling guilt, be he felt it in that moment – an exquisite kind of pain as they moved about the floor, hands touching for brief instances before their steps created an agonizing distance between them. The dance moved into a kind of waltz and at last he was able to hold her in his arms and he moved her with effortless grace across the floor.

"Where did you disappear to last night?" he asked at last, finally breaking the silence between them.

"Does it matter?" He spun her around once before bringing her back in. "After tonight I owe no more allegiances to you, you'll recall," she reminded him.

"I spoke in haste."

"Did you? I was starting to get the impression that my presence was burdening you, Count Dracula."

There it was again – that title. He nearly cringed.

"Don't call me that."

"That's what you are – the notorious vampire, the prince of darkness… you feel no love, no fear, no joy, no sorrow. You are hollow and you will live forever – alone and with nothing to live for."

She spoke poniards and every word stabbed.

"Wasn't it you who was saying that the man, Vladislaus, was still in there somewhere?" he reminded her.

"I don't know? Is he in there? Or did I just dream that?"

They changed partners before he could answer and she was suddenly in the arms of Lucian. He watched her closely as the two danced until they switched partners again and he had her in his hold once more.

"Budapest has changed you," she explained. "You are not the same man I spent the last year of my life with. You may have used me, molded me into the vampire you wanted me to be, but never did you treat me with the disregard and distrust you treat me with now."

"I know," he admitted. "I never should have treated you so ill. I don't know why I did it."

"Yes you do," she answered, once more with that sage-like wisdom of hers. He had spent his entire existence securing himself behind a thick wall, a façade that he had managed to fool the entire world with, and she was the only one on earth who could see past it. He felt naked and exposed under her observant gaze. Her understanding of who he was – who he truly was – unnerved him, but in a strange sort of way, it was a kind of relief to know that there was at least one person out there who saw who he truly was and had still chosen to stay.

"I wounded your pride that night, when I refused to kiss you," she said. "But that's not the only reason why you've been treating me so flippantly. I got under your skin, didn't I?"

He couldn't answer – not that he needed to. She could see that she had struck another nerve and his silence spoke volumes. Hearing it being spoken aloud for other dancers to overhear made him uncomfortable, and instinct and his pride insisted that he put her "in her place." But he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked her, the slightest hint of desperation in his voice. "I do not wish to quarrel with you anymore, Afina," he insisted as the song started to come to an end. "Please. I want you by my side. I – I need you." The words were difficult to get out, but once said, he felt a strange kind of relief at their release.

Her expression seemed to lighten somewhat, but there was still a sadness in her eyes.

"The time for words has passed, Count. If you need me so much – prove it."

She curtsied quickly and was soon after stolen for the next dance by her uncle.

Vlad began to beat himself up. He should have stopped her, should have grabbed her hand and pulled her back. If only he could make her understand what kind of effect she was having on him without having to make him say it. On the outside he was all cordiality and smiles, but inside he was in agony.

He watched Afina and her uncle for several minutes as they danced. Although he was mildly disturbed by her words and the suddenly very real prospect that tonight would be his last night with her for some time, the other part of him was still perfectly content to just watch her as she moved graciously across the floor. Even when she was angry with him, there was still something mesmerizing about her and he was helpless to resist her pull. He could recall teaching her how to dance for the first time – how she struggled to let him lead, how she stepped on his toes, counted under her breath, and cursed him for making her practice so much. He had been a ruthless dance instructor and she had borne it as no one else could have. It had all been worth it, he thought to himself. She truly had become his greatest success – his masterpiece.

He was so busy watching Afina that he hardly noticed Elizabeth come up beside him.

"I'm assuming by that grin on your face that this evening has been a notable success?" she inquired, taking his arm. Not wishing to divulge his secret struggles, he merely nodded.

"Very much so."

"Afina looks positively delicious," she added, a lustful husk in her voice. "Good enough to eat. You'd like to watch that, wouldn't you?" she purred, not bothering to hide the blatantly sexual meaning in her voice. It had the opposite affect that she had intended. Instead of becoming aroused by the idea, he became repulsed, suddenly disgusted by her presence and he pulled away from her.

"For God's sake, woman, do you have no decency?" he asked, making his way out of the room, suddenly eager to be far away from her.

"It was just a joke!" Elizabeth insisted, following after him. "Don't be like that. Besides, I thought after tonight you were going to sever all ties with her?"

"It was rash of me," he admitted, making his way down the hall as she pursued him. "What she accused you of was ludicrous, but I should not have been so hard on her."

"Oh God, you _must_ be joking!" Elizabeth laughed.

"I've never been more serious in all my life. I'm sorry Elizabeth, as much as I've enjoyed your company over the last several days, after tonight you and I – whatever _this _is between us. It ends tonight."

"Excuse me?"

"That clever woman," he said under his breath in reference to Afina. "She knew exactly what she was doing. Dressing like that, with her hair open… singing my praises when she easily could have doomed me with her words." He laughed, mostly to himself. "She knows me too well. Oh, how could I have been so foolish? I can't lose h…"

He was suddenly cut off by a sharp pain in his neck as everything quickly faded to black.

When he awoke, he was in his bedchambers, stripped down to his tight-fitting breeches, his arms and legs bound by silver chains that were secured to the two end posts of his bed. He made the instinctive effort to pull and free himself, but he found that all of his strength had been drained from his body.

That wasn't the only thing that was draining from him.

As he became more conscious, he noticed thin tubes draining his blood into a large crystal vase. Thick needles were buried in the veins in his wrists, underarms, and one in the center of his chest. He was so weak, he could barely stand.

Elizabeth was seated in a chair in front of him, the dress she had been wearing earlier laid out on the bed so she was dressed in little more than her corset and knickers.

"What the hell?"

"Don't worry. You'll only be like that for about ten more minutes, as soon as the rest of your blood has been drained from your body," she explained, studying her nails with mild disinterest. "It'll all be over soon."

"But…."

"Oh, come now, Vlad. Did you really think that Craven would try to kill _me_? Honestly, love, I thought you were smarter than that."

Dracula found it more and more difficult to speak with every ounce of blood that drained from his body.

"You won't get away with this," he managed weakly.

"I've already gotten away with it!" she said with a laugh upon standing. "Even as I speak, Craven and his men are closing in. By the time the sun rises, the elders will either be dead or subservient to the Order. "

Dracula managed to laugh, though it hurt to do so.

"You really think the like of Dragoş or Reunan and his sister will bow down to the church?"

"They will when your precious Afina has one of these in her chest," she explained, revealing the same stake that he had removed from her own body just a few nights ago.

"Even if he manages to get her in the heart, she can't die in the traditional methods. She is her father's daughter, after all. And my blood still flows in her veins. It was my blood that sparked her transition."

"It won't kill her; that much is true." Elizabeth suddenly slammed the stake directly into his heart. He let out a cry of pain before feeling a strange numbness spread throughout his body. He couldn't move! "But it will paralyze her," she explained, twisting the stake for the sadistic pleasure of it. Dracula could feel the tiny spikes that decorated the end of the stake tearing the muscle beneath his skin and try as he might to cry out in agony, he couldn't move. He could feel some kind of foreign toxin running through his system. It burned like a fire and then froze over, incapacitating him completely. He was entirely at her mercy.

"A special delivery, from the Holy Order," she taunted. "Designed specifically to paralyze a vampire. But I bet you're wondering why it didn't work on me? Well, that's very simple. See, there's this switch right here that released the toxin. And this button here," and she pushed down on it, "releases the hooks that latch onto your ribs so you can't remove it out without tearing out your heart at the same time. Rather clever, actually."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her forehead against his.

"Oh my dear, dear Vlad. I'm so sorry. As much as it pains me – the idea of you being destroyed once and for all – I'd much rather live myself. By delivering you to the Order, I receive a full pardon from the church. My sins are forgiven, and blah, bah, blah. The best part is, I can live out the rest of my existence without having to worry about the Order constantly looming over my head like some kind of ominous cloud." Her hands moved down his chest, her fingers tracing the waistline of his breeches. "I'll definitely miss this though," she replied, grabbing his groin with one hand and squeezing it hard. She could see the pain in his eyes and she relished in it. "Craven's nice and all, but he's nothing to you. Guess I have all eternity to fix that." She squeezed even harder and watched with sadistic glee as a single tear of agony ran down his cheek.

"You'll get to watch us – Craven and I. We'll make love, covered in your blood. And then we'll find your precious protégé and ravish her until she screams for mercy. And you can watch Craven have what you never could," she mocked.

Elizabeth heard the door opening behind her and she smiled.

"Ah, my beloved! Right on time. Come. Ravish me before he passes out…"

She turned around, expecting to see Craven. What she saw made all the blood drain from her face.

Afina stood in the doorway, a silver-plated sword from the suit of armor in the hall in one hand and Craven's disembodied head in the other. His eviscerated body was just outside and it was slowly starting to turn to ash before her very eyes, the stake that had been intended for Afina buried in his chest.

Elizabeth – torn between confusion, heartbreak at the loss of her lover, and anger for being thwarted – let out a hellish scream as Craven's head dissolved into blood and ash in Afina's hands. Afina's arm was covered in Craven's blood and she lifted her hand to tauntingly lick the crimson off her fingers, her eyes glowing that electrified blue.

"He wasn't fast enough," she explained mockingly, raising the sword. "Let's see if you fare any better," and she pointed it in Elizabeth's direction. The woman, mad with rage, lunged forward and began to attack. Afina did her best to fight the raving vampire off but Elizabeth was older and much more experienced. She managed to claw Afina several times, but she was so blinded by rage that she took a wrong step and was met by Afina's blade which sank deep into her stomach and out the other side.

Afina pinned the woman to the wall, staking her in place, taking the moment to go to Dracula's aid as he was still wasting away in front of them. She managed to remove the stake and a single shackle before Elizabeth got free, flinging Afina across the room and into the wall. Elizabeth picked up the stake that was still covered in Dracula's blood and she licked it maliciously as she closed in on Afina.

"Foolish child," she hissed, her fangs bared. "I am nearly four centuries old! Do you honestly think you can defeat me?"

"Your boyfriend was easy enough."

That clearly incited the woman's wrath, for she lunged forward to drive the stake into Afina's chest, but Afina grabbed the woman's hands before the tip of the weapon could touch her flesh. Unfortunately, Elizabeth was stronger and several inches taller, giving her the advantage. Afina felt the sharp tip graze the skin between her breasts. If she didn't act quickly, the same toxin that had paralyzed Dracula would be making its way through her own veins.

She slammed her head forward suddenly, right into Elizabeth's mouth and she felt the teeth break on impact. Elizabeth shrieked and pulled back, holding her bleeding mouth.

"My fangs! You broke my fangs!" she screamed. Afina could feel one of them in her forehead and she carefully plucked the tooth out, examining it closely.

"Looks like I'll have to turn them into earrings."

"You bitch!" and she lunged forward once more to stake her. "I'll tear out your heart and make you watch as I eat it."

"Vlad, a little help please!" Afina shouted.

"He can't help you. I've drained practically every drop of blood in his body. And soon, I'll do the same to you."

Afina suddenly stopped her resistance and Elizabeth fell forward. Afina wasn't able to move fast enough and the stake was soon buried in her shoulder. It did give her just enough time to push Elizabeth away, creating some kind of distance between them, but she could feel the paralyzing toxin making its way through her body, disorientating her. She grabbed the sword and stumbled over to Dracula, lifting the blade and breaking the other shackle that held up his other arm. He fell forward, knocking over the vase that held his blood and the crimson spilled all over the hardwood floor.

Afina couldn't feel her legs and she soon fell to the ground, struggling to pull the stake from her shoulder, but it wouldn't budge.

Elizabeth was on her feet again, her eyes blacker than pitch, her expression positively feral. Afina still struggled against the toxin, trying to muster just enough strength to remove the stake, but it was hopeless. Elizabeth was soon on top of her, straddling her waist and leaning forward, a dark look of victory in her eyes.

"Looks like the daughter of Alrik isn't as impenetrable as everyone thought," the vampire taunted.

"I'm not dead yet," Afina managed weakly.

"_Yet_ being the operative word. No, I want you alive for this… I want you to feel everything that I'm going to do to you. First," Elizabeth slammed her fist into Afina's chest, breaking past the ribs and soon she had her heart in her hand, "I'm going to tear out your heart… just as you tore out Nicolæ's."

Afina gasped in pain as Elizabeth lifted her hand and began to remove the heart from Afina's chest, the arteries and veins the only thing keeping it attached to her body. She squeezed the heart in her hand and watched as the blood drained out of it like a sponge.

"And then, I'm going to tear out your clever little tongue and rape you with it, after I break each and every one of your teeth." She raised her fist to slam it into Afina's mouth but she stopped suddenly.

Afina watched as a thin line appeared along Elizabeth's throat, the line soon leaking blood and her head slumped forward, falling off of her body. Before her head could hit the floor, a silver blade pierced the woman's heart and her body dissolved into ash.

* * *

**Musical Influences: **  
_El amor brujo: Dance of Terror_, Rachel Barton Pine, "Instrument of the Devil"_  
Burning Desire_, by Lana Del Rey_  
Il Dolce Suono_, performed by Inva Mula, "Donizetti – Lucia di Lammermoor"

**_Playlist for masquerade ball found on YouTube channel. Link in profile_. **

**A very special and heart-filled thanks to **invisible reader** and **DeviousGina123** for their reviews of the previous chapter. This update probably wouldn't have happened without them! Many thanks, my dears, especially to **invisible reader** who always gives such wonderful and thought-filled reviews! You really should open an account, my friend!  
**


	13. Fire

**A special thanks to **Danielle**, **BeautifulCataleya**, **invisible reader**, and **MissVD **for your reviews of the last chapter. If I could give you all hugs or cookies, I totally would! **

**Please forgive any mistakes, errors, or accidental redundancies and inevitable word-repetitions you may find in this chapter. I tried to catch them all, but I probably missed some. And, as always, enjoy! **

* * *

**Chapter 13: Fire**

Dracula was standing over Afina, his ankles still chained with the sword she had had had from earlier in his hand, his own blood smeared all over his face. When he had fallen to the ground after Afina had freed his hands, he had lapped up just enough of his spilled blood to give him enough strength to finish off Elizabeth before she could do any real damage.

The exertion had been too much for him, however, and he fell to his knees, exhausted. Barely able to hold himself up, he reached for the stake buried in Afina's shoulder and removed it before carefully placing her heart back into her chest just as her body began to heal itself.

The toxin shortly thereafter wore-off just as the Count collapsed beside her, panting for air that he really didn't need.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

She nodded silently, grateful when she could finally feel her toes again.

"Afina, I…" Dracula managed, but he was immediately hushed.

"You don't get to talk," Afina retorted breathlessly, pointing her finger at him in warning.

After a minute or two, she had just enough strength to push herself to her feet and she hobbled over to the door, as though her legs were still asleep. She peeked her head into the hallway and motioned for someone to come over. The Count looked up, watching as his protégé guided a young woman into the room, shutting the door behind her. The woman's eyes were glossed over, as if under a spell. Afina ordered the girl to kneel before the Count as she gathered him in her arms, lifting him into an upright position. The girl unlaced the front of her dress and freed her shoulders, exposing her swan-like throat. Afina bit roughly into the girl's neck and just as the blood began to flow she pressed the wound to the Count's mouth, making sure he was drinking before placing the girl in his lap after propping him up against the bed as he sat on the floor.

As the Count fed, Afina proceeded to remove the needles in his veins, her eyes never showing the relief she felt when he began to heal on his own. She watched him for several quiet minutes as he drank every last drop that he could get in an effort to replenish what had been taken from him. The girl was soon dead and when he was finished, Afina rose to her feet.

"Afina, wait…" he began, wiping the blood from his face with the back of his hand as he stood.

"I said you don't get to talk," she reminded him.

"At least let me thank you," he insisted, noticing that she had left one shackle fastened around his ankle. He struggled against it when trying to move toward her.

"I don't want your thanks," she replied. "You saved my life, I saved yours. We are even. Craven is dead and your guests are finishing off the others."

"The others?'

"They attacked shortly after you left with Elizabeth," she explained. "Fortunately, I recognized most of them due to the inquiries I had made earlier in the month. Your guests enjoyed the sport. Craven came this way in an effort to get to Elizabeth, but I cut him off." She picked up the crystal vase that had been filled with Dracula's drained blood and placed it carefully on the tea table. "You have no idea how hard it is to disembowel a man without spoiling one's clothes," she commented, washing her hands in a basin of water beside the bed before wiping the excess blood from her hands with Elizabeth's discarded gown.

When she was clean, she clapped her hands together once and avoided eye-contact with him entirely, her eyes constantly looking back to the open door. "Well, I better head back down stairs, make sure everything is alright. I'll just let them know you're presently indisposed," and she was suddenly making her way toward the exit.

Unwilling to just let her leave and run the risk of never seeing her again, he broke the chain with a single tug of his leg, and before she could reach the door, he was behind her, shutting it with one hand. She could feel him standing behind her, could feel the heat that came from feeding radiating off his body. Every down-hair along the length of her spine stood on end. She didn't have to look at him to know how he was looking at her. She could feel it burning into her skin.

"_Afina_."

He whispered her name with such reverence and such need, she knew if she didn't get out of this room now, he would never let her leave it. She grabbed the door handle with rapidly dissolving resolution and went to open it again but his hand pushed back on it steadfastly. After another failed attempt to open the door, she rested her forehead against the cool polished wood in defeat.

"You're not going to let me leave, are you?"

"I don't want you to leave," he whispered. "I take back what I said last night. I never should have said it. I should have trusted you." She felt him close in on the minimal space between them, his bare chest barely brushing against her back, his arms on either side of her as she continued to face the door. He rested his head against hers, his nose in her hair, and she felt him press a soft kiss to the back of her head. "I – I'm sorry." She closed her eyes at the sound of the words, having heard how much effort it took for him to say them.

She felt his hand tenderly grab hold of her upper arm.

"I don't want to lose you," he said, his voice barely audible, strained with emotion. "I couldn't bear your absence. Stay with me," he pleaded, his hand caressing down her arm and back up again. "Stay with me." He kissed her bare shoulder reverently, squeezing her arm in earnestness. "Please stay."

She knew she should have left – that had been the plan. Save him and leave him. But the tenderness that was coming from him was so genuine and so sincere, it was near impossible for her to walk away now. She slowly turned to look at him, her back pressed against the cool door as she looked into his eyes, immediately noting how earnest he was.

He caressed the side of her face with the back of his fingers, lost in her gaze. He could feel it again – that delicious sexual tension, the same that he had felt the night of Agnar's equinox ball, but there was more to it than that. For the first time in his life, Count Dracula couldn't bear the thought of losing someone. It was a foreign sensation, but it wasn't unpleasant. It was an exquisite kind of agony, not knowing if she was going to reciprocate his feelings. Would she push him away once again? He tried his luck and gently kissed her forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulled away to whisper the word "stay" once more.

That gentle kiss on her forehead spoke volumes to Afina, making it harder for her to pull away from him. The look in his eyes seemed to say even more. He wanted her. That much was evident. But that kiss on her brow spoke of a respect he had for her, that as much as he wanted her, he didn't only want her to feed his sexual appetite. He wanted her at his side. It was so strange, standing there with her back to the door, this powerful man looking down at her with pleading in his eyes.

"I should make you kneel on the ground and grovel," she stated. He immediately fell to his knees before her and she almost laughed.

"I am at your mercy," he replied. "Punish me however you will." She loved the teasing in his eyes, but she also knew a part of him was completely serious.

"I'm still mad at you," she insisted, trying to sound adamant, but he could hear the wavering resolve in her voice and it gave him hope.

"Undoubtedly," he breathed, standing slowly again.

"By rights, I should just leave you and never look back."

"I wouldn't blame you if you did."

"You've been a complete and total ass the last few weeks."

"I know."

"And I didn't appreciate how loud you and Elizabeth were. I could hear her from almost every corner of the house."

"That's not my fault."

"That is _entirely _your fault," she replied with an archness in her expression. "I'm by no means a prude, but when I can start keeping a tally of how many times you got her to…" Her voice drifted suddenly, and he watched as the look of teasing slowly melted away, her eyes glossed over in what appeared to be desire. She was suddenly very aware of the lack of distance between them. She already knew Dracula was an excellent lover, and though she had hated him for being so blatant in his sexual escapades with the late Elizabeth Nouveau, a part of her couldn't help but wonder what kind of magic the man could work on a woman's body. Just the thought made her warm all over and she could feel the slight flush in her cheeks. "I am still very, _very_ cross," she added unconvincingly, looking longingly at his mouth.

"Absolutely."

"Stop agreeing with me."

"Yes."

"You have no idea how much I want to smack your face right now."

"Then hit me," he pleaded. "Do _something_. I know you are not without feeling."

"If you can live without feeling anything, then so can I," she answered stubbornly. His hands were on either side of her now.

"_Afina_…"

The way he moaned her name undid her.

"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?" she inquired, her voice heady with desire.

"Probably."

"God, I hate you," she inhaled, closing in on the remaining distance between their mouths and kissing him soundly. He returned her kiss immediately, ready to devour her with his open mouth before his lips locked again with hers, their kisses feverish and deep.

His bottom lip was soon caught in her mouth and she bit it lightly, teasing him. To him, the action felt like she had kicked open the doors that held his passion in reserve, and all of it came pouring out as he held her face in his hands, thrusting his greedy tongue into her receptive mouth. He plundered mercilessly and she let him, her hand moving behind his head and holding him there, her fingers tangled in his hair. Even though neither of them needed the air, they couldn't get enough of the oxygen, both panting heavily between each kiss.

His tongue thrust into her mouth and he tasted and explored every nook and cranny before retreating, his lips caught on her bottom lip. He was thrilled when she responded in kind, the tip of her tongue reaching out for his like some kind of siren, pulling him back in for another deep, soul-consuming kiss.

His mouth moved over her jaw and down to her neck and she felt him smile against her throat when she moaned gently. His hands were all over her – _he_ was all over her, and it became increasingly difficult to keep track of where he was. But the taste of blood still lingering on his tongue excited her and soon it was her tongue invading his mouth, eager to lap up every last drop. Her forwardness incited a mad passion in him that seemed to devour every inch of his body. The feeling of her softness against him, her desperate hands in his hair, her fervent tongue penetrating his mouth – it was almost too much. It was like being caught in a fire - nothing but all-consuming heat that devoured everything in it's wake.

In an effort to regain some semblance of control before he lost himself to her completely, his passionate kisses found her neck again and his teeth raked across her flesh and he suckled that sweet spot just above her collar bone where her neck met the curve of her shoulder. The friction of his teeth on her skin created a delicious kind of pain and the sounds she made in response thrilled him. His name – the full three, glorious syllables – passed her lips in a heady moan full of sexual longing and nothing had ever sounded more beautiful to him. He plundered her once again, their lips quickly finding a mutual rhythm. Every inch of his skin was crawling, as if his flesh had gone years without being touched by another, her hands leaving trails of splendid heat in their wake. Everything about her made him feel hot and hard and he clenched his fist, pressing it into the door in an effort to keep himself in check.

She felt his body move against hers and she immediately noticed the state he was in, his engorged groin hard against her. Torn between a longing for wanton abandon and the desire to regain control, Afina was relieved when the sound of Dracula's name being called could be heard down the hall.

He emitted a low growl of frustration, his forehead pressed against hers as he swore under his breath.

"It's Vigdís," Afina explained with labored breaths, recognizing the voice.

She could tell he didn't want his time with her to end, but he didn't have much of a choice. He kissed her one more time before pulling away reluctantly, opening the door just a crack and peeking his head out into the hall.

"Vigdís! How can I help you?" he asked, forcing on a pleasant smile.

"We had wondered where you had disappeared to."

"You'll have to forgive me. As you can see, we had some unexpected visitors this evening," and he motioned to the dried up corpse of Craven in the hall before opening the door to his chambers and allowing the woman to lay her eyes on the remains of Elizabeth as well.

"I'm glad you're in one piece. Have you seen Afina?"

"I'm fine," Afina replied, revealing herself from behind the door. "Elizabeth was trying to drain the Count of his blood so the Order could take him as prisoner," Afina explained as calmly as she could. "I arrived just in time."

"What a relief! And such very lucky timing, too! Are you quite alright, Count?"

"Never better, my lady," he assured her with a bow, quickly grabbing his shirt. "I'll just finish dressing and will join you as soon as I can."

"Of course. Such a dreadful business. Although, I suppose it worked out perfectly. Nothing like a good hunt for an interlude. We were hoping to discuss the current state of affairs with the Order. It is clear they mean business. We are all in agreement. The sooner we take care of the Holy Order, the better. We were thinking we could march on Rome by mid-November."

"In two weeks?" Afina replied, genuinely surprised. "So soon?"

"I think that's an excellent idea," the Count replied.

"Perhaps we could discuss it over some of that vintage wine I hear you have stored away in your cellar?"

"I'd be delighted. Would you be so kind as to gather the others? We can meet in my study. It's on the floor beneath us, left hall, second door."

"We shall be there shortly. And please bring Afina. We feel her input would be invaluable."

"I couldn't agree more."

Vigdís then excused herself, vanishing just moments later, leaving the Count and Afina alone once more.

"Two weeks? That's hardly any time at all," Afina pointed out.

"It'll give the Order very little time to prepare, which is exactly the kind of advantage we need," Dracula explained, pulling on his evening jacket before fixing his hair.

"Well, you know best. I'm just the soldier," she said with an unsure smile, making her way out into the hall, but before she could cross the threshold, he grabbed her arm and pulled her back into the room.

"You are much more than that, my dear," he insisted with a fervor that surprised her pleasantly. "You are my bellator… my warrior."

"I am not yours yet, Count Dracula," she teased.

"My name, Afina. Say my name."

The mischievous glint in her eyes melted away, replaced by a soft smile. Her better judgment was screaming at her – she knew this was a bad idea, getting involved with him like this and so quickly. But the fact that he had just saved her from Elizabeth and with her lips still pulsating from his passionate kisses, Afina pushed that nagging feeling into the back of her mind and grabbed the lapels of his jacket, pulling him toward her and kissing him with an abandon that drove him to the edge of oblivion all over again.

"_Vladislaus_," she purred.

He rewarded her with another kiss, deeper than the one before, his arms wrapped around her, her body flush against his. It was a delicious contrast, one that made Afina suddenly crave the feeling of his skin on hers; the thought of him filling her in the way only a man could made her blush violently.

He gently pulled away from her lips at long last and looked into her delirious eyes. "We should go."

"Yes, we should," she agreed.

"And we should probably talk about this."

She smiled and kissed his hand with a reverence that touched him deeply.

"There isn't much time," she answered. "Not now. But when all of this is over…"

"Do you mean it?" he asked her. "You know my feelings, but I don't want to rush you into something you don't want."

She gently took the hand that was caressing her face and she held it to her heart.

"I do want it," she whispered. "More than you could ever know."

The admission made him smile and he kissed her brow sweetly before resting his head against hers.

"When this is done, then?"

"The second it's all over," she promised.

He knew she was right. With an impending war with the Holy Order just two weeks away, there wouldn't be enough time for them to explore the possibilities of being together – not just as confidants and friends, but as an actual couple. But when all of this was over, he thought to himself, they'd have all the time in the world and although the idea was foreign to him, it was so easy to imagine having her as the only woman in his life. He wasn't entirely ready to make that kind of commitment just yet, but perhaps after Van Helsing and the Holy Order had been removed? Perhaps it was time to settle-down after all, he mused to himself, following her out of the room and down the hall.

They met with the elders and several other prominent figures in vampire society in the Count's study just a short while later. The sound of the party below them could still be heard and the music and sound of reveling provided an oddly light-hearted soundtrack for a very serious meeting. Afina was the last to arrive, having offered to collect the specific bottle of wine that Vigdís had requested. Tom, the servant who knew the ins and outs of the cellar, was nowhere to be found, which left Afina to rummage through several rows of vintage bottles until she found the right one. On her way out of the cellar, she had accidentally stepped on a small vial that had been lying in the middle of the floor – something that she found to be mildly suspicious, but had to dismiss. She didn't want to keep the others waiting.

By the time she arrived in the study, battle plans were already underway. The date had already been decided and agreed upon – in two weeks' time, they would attack. Adnraste and Reunan were insisting on a more forward approach, proposing that they descend upon the Vatican City in force, destroying every last living thing with a heartbeat to ensure that no member of the Order escaped.

Although the proposal was appealing to some of the others, Dragoş argued that a slaughter of innocents was unnecessary for what they were trying to accomplish.

"For the most part, our existence is still a secret from the rest of the world," he continued. "We don't have definitive proof that the entire church is even aware that we exist."

"Dragoş is right," Raynora, his wife, chimed in. "The Order may be deeply imbedded in the church, but the church is not the problem. The Order is the problem."

"I have sources that say that the Order's central hub has always been in the catacombs beneath Rome. It was the Vatican that was built on top of it," Dracula explained. "What we need is a way in without attracting too much attention."

"I still say we storm the city," Reunan insisted. "The actual church may not be responsible for the Order, but they are a part of it. Besides, attacking from the ground level is our only option, anyway. It's the only way inside."

"Do we even know how to get inside?" Vigdís inquired.

"I have no problem tearing down that city stone by stone," Adnraste replied. "Besides, it was the Catholics that wiped out most of our line in the first place."

"We want our revenge," Reunan added.

"You're forgetting that the Order supposedly has this secret weapon that could destroy all of us," Vigdís reminded them. "And besides, the majority of our lines are susceptible to the traditional methods of destruction. Storming a church full of monks, rabbis, priests, friars, and imams would be _incredibly_ foolish."

"We could always get in through the catacombs," Afina suggested casually as she finished pouring the wine into various glasses. She didn't have to look up to know all eyes were on her and she smiled slightly as she began to hand the wine glasses out to the guests.

"There is a very old tunnel system that runs under the heart of Rome. The Order monopolizes most of these tunnels but there is one in particular that has been unused for nearly a century due to a section collapse. What the Order _doesn't_ know is that there's a sewer line that leads directly over that tunnel on the other side of the collapse. The only thing that separates that line from the tunnel is an old door that had been walled up. All we need to do is break down the wall, sneak into the tunnel, and we have access to the very heart of the Order's operations."

"How do you know about this?"

"I found it in a book in the library," she explained, glancing over at Dracula. "You have old blueprints outlining the tunnels beneath the city and another set of the sewer line."

"I do?" he asked.

"You do now," she replied with a gleam in her eyes. "I didn't spend all of my time in the city looking for information on Craven. There are several excellent shops that sell old maps and plans and things in the city."

"Where are these maps now?" Lucian asked, speaking for the first time since the meeting had begun.

After the wine had been passed around, she retrieved two scrolls from a drawer and laid them across the desk as the others gathered around to see. Dracula stood on her right and watched as she carefully unrolled the first map. The map of the tunnel system was old – very old. Fortunately, the map of the newer tunnel system was made of a lighter paper and Afina positioned it on top of the older scroll to show where the two intertwined.

"To ensure that they don't hear us coming, we just need to set up a distraction in the square outside of the Vatican," she explained, pulling out another map – this one containing details of the Vatican. "Most of the Order will concentrate their efforts here, in the Piazza San Pietro just outside the doors. The Selkirk's can take that opportunity to exact revenge for the desecration of their line, along with any others that wish to do so." The twins seemed pleased by that proposition. "When they are finished, there is a seal in the plaza that when removed, opens the entrance to an additional tunnel that leads down to the Order. I can also take a small group into the Vatican itself and can lead them to the secret entrance that leads down to the hive at the exact time that another team comes in through the tunnel."

"They'll be surrounded."

"Precisely."

"A clever plan," Dracula replied, unable to hide the pride in his eyes as he looked at her. "But there's only one thing I'm concerned about? How can we draw out Van Helsing?"

"You will need to be part of the distraction," she explained. "My uncle can take a group of fifteen or so into the tunnels. When the Order sees you, the word will quickly get back to Van Helsing. If I know him – he'll be waiting for you below."

"My wife and I can take care of the Order below while you have your revenge," Dragoş offered, taking his place on Afina's left. "An excellent plan, though if the stories coming out of Rome are true, we're going to need all of the help we can get," and took a drink.

"We can use the next week and a half to gather members of our respective lines and can meet in the Apennine Mountains – there's an old fortress there we can use for shelter from the day," Reunan explained.

"Then we are in agreement?" the Count inquired. "The evening before the attack, we shall meet in the mountains to combine our forces and then we'll descend. The Selkirks will create a diversion in the piazza. The Ákis will take the tunnels, and the Thurstan line and Afina will take the ground entrance within the cathedral. We'll all meet below at the stroke of midnight to finish this once and for all."

There was a round of approval from each individual in attendance and when the plan had been decided, Afina handed the Count her glass of wine, which he took with a smile before raising it to the others. They all followed suit as he offered a toast.

* * *

**_Musical Influences:_  
**[1] _Love Scene_, by Gabriel Yared & Cyrille Aufort, "A Royal Affair" score  
[2] _I Am Hers, She Is Mine_, by Ramin Djawadi, "Game of Thrones" season 2 OST  
[3] _Mixed Messages from Anne_, by Trevor Morris, "The Tudors" OST  
[4] _Cassiopeia_, by Sara Bareilles, "The Blessed Unrest"

**YouTube playlist and Tumblr have both been updated to reflect inspirations for this chapter.**


	14. Diversions

**That slightly awkward moment when I divert from my publishing schedule because I feel like it. **

**Enjoy the surprise update! And as always, please forgive the errors you may find within. **

* * *

**Chapter 14: Diversions**

The sound of metal clashing in rapid succession almost sounded more like the manic rhythm to a difficult Chopin or Rachmaninoff piece. The swordplay was happening in a now very empty ballroom between Lucian and Afina who were being observed with great amusement by several onlookers – namely Dragoş and the Selkirk twins, Adnraste and Reunan.

"Come now, Lucian," Dragoş teased, "You're easily thirty times her age! Don't get bested by a woman!"

The twins laughed at the remark, only inciting Lucian's determination to win this duel. But Afina was fast – which was no surprise, as she was smaller in build and an attentive dueler. The Count had taught her well; that much was evident. Their thrusts and parries were quick and calculated, the sabers little more than blurs.

"Her footwork is magnificent! Just look at those lines!" Reunan commented. "Any idea of who trained Vlad?"

"Alrik did," Dragoş explained with a deep look of pride in his eyes as he watched his niece. "If only he could be here to see her."

"I'm certain Alrik would find something to nitpick on," Adnraste reminded him. "The man was a horrible perfectionist!"

"But you're easily the best archer because of it."

"You didn't have to deal with him, brother. To any onlooker, my form was perfection. But to Alrik, my back could never be straight enough. It was always 'don't slouch, Andie.'"

"Do you remember that one time when he strapped a flat board to your corset to keep you upright?" Reunan laughed. His sister folded her arms in indignation.

"I could have killed him."

"Vlad did that to me as well!" Afina chimed in, blocking Lucian's attacks with relative ease. "He had me practice for nearly five days straight with it on, no breaks for feeding or even sleeping. By the end of it, I couldn't lift my arms past my waist!"

"Alrik did the same thing to me!" Lucian exclaimed in surprise.

"You mean to tell me that Vlad got all of his teaching tactics from my father? How unoriginal!" she chuckled.

"But you can't argue with the results," Dragoş insisted, motioning towards her. "Lucian is well over nine-hundred years old and he can barely keep up with you," he said with a laugh.

"I'm getting too old for this," Lucian defended.

"Nonsense! She may be a mere child, but you were taught by the master. She was only taught by his apprentice. Come, Lucian! Finish the duel!"

Lucian offered a look of apology to Afina who merely smiled in response until he lunged toward her, his attacks increasing in their fierceness.

"Were you holding back on me?" she teased, struggling to keep up with _him_ now.

"Maybe a little."

As the duel continued to intensify, Dracula entered the room with Vigdís, the two lost in their own discussion.

"Did Afina ever get the chance to talk to you?" Vigdís inquired in lower tones so they wouldn't be overheard.

"Yes, she did express her concerns about rushing into this."

"And do you agree?"

"I can understand her hesitation, but we've been planning a counter-offensive on the Order for centuries now."

"That's what I told her, but she said that there were weapons that the Order possessed that could seriously damage our ability to overpower them."

"She fears for the lives of the others."

"That is understandable, commendable even. The woman has spent the majority of her life without any kind of family, and then to run the risk of having it snatched away so quickly…"

"I told her that our sheer numbers alone would be enough to overpower them."

"I recently received a report that said the Order is anticipating our arrival and is in the process of clearing out the church, under the guise of maintenance. Van Helsing has also been called in from the field and is reported to return to Rome the day of our attack."

"How did they find out about our plans?"

"You forget, old friend, they have eyes and ears everywhere. Have you done checks on your staff recently?"

"There was one or two that went missing after the ball last week," Dracula confessed. "My man that has been in charge of my wines and blood storage – Tom is his name – he went missing. But I don't see him working for the Order. He and his family have been in my employment for several decades and I've compensated them all for their work."

"Is he human?"

"Yes."

"He may be the weak link."

"He wasn't privy to any valuable information, though. And Afina had mentioned that he had been missing for most of the evening. I assumed one of the guests got to him. I never could have imagined that he'd be a potential traitor. It is so unlike him."

"These are dangerous times, Vladislaus. We're at the turn of the century and there's unrest not just in our world, but for the humans as well. Nothing is certain."

Dracula's eyes wandered across the room and over to the still dueling Afina and Lucian. He watched his protégé with pride as she blocked Lucian's every attack.

"Do you think we're rushing into this war, Vigdís? Answer me truly," he queried quietly. He felt her wrap her arm around his as she too watched Afina from a distance.

"I know you worry for her, Count," she replied. "We all do. But she is Alrik's daughter. And you have trained her well."

"Have I?" he asked, unconvinced. "She has been an excellent student; that much is certain. Her focus and attention to detail is impeccable. But is she ready for something like this? I'm not certain that she's ready for the real possibility that this could turn into a bloodbath."

"I believe she is," Vigdís answered. "And waiting another week or another month or another decade won't change that. Until the Order is eliminated, we are all in danger, her included. If you want to be with her, Count, without fear of retribution or destruction, the Order must be stopped." She squeezed his hand in reassurance and offered him a smile. "She'll be fine. All of us will be. We may lose some of our bloodlines, but we'll have the rest of eternity to rebuild again, and we'll have no opposition."

"Nothing is that certain," he reminded her. "But I hope you are right. I truly do."

"Have the last four-hundred years of your existence taught you nothing, Vladislaus? I am _always_ right," she said with a grin.

The Count stood there for several long moments, watching the duel from a distance as Vigdís went to join the others. Afina was strong and clever – she could certainly hold her own. And nothing could kill her; of that much he was certain. The blood in her veins was both Áki and Dracul – she was his created creation. No, he was certain _she_ would at least survive this.

But would he?

Dracula wasn't concerned about the Order. Even with their science and their God, they were no match for a vampire army. But what he was truly worried about was Van Helsing.

The vampire hunter was still alive – and to make matters worse, he also had managed to defeat Dracula not once, but twice now. Dracula couldn't even be certain if the man had earned back his archangel status and not knowing worried him more than anything else. In the past, resurrection for the Count was practically guaranteed. The only downside to being destroyed was starting from scratch when he awoke.

The cult of gypsies and witches he had employed back in the 1400s had been dwindling in numbers over the last four-hundred years. What if they never received word of his destruction if it happened? What if they couldn't get to his ashes in time? What if death this time around was truly permanent? He would never admit it aloud, but for the first time in his extended existence, he was actually fearful of just how uncertain his future was.

But with all of that uncertainty, there was one thing he was absolutely certain of – Afina. She gave him the courage necessary to face the ambiguity of what was to come because he couldn't imagine his world without her. And the benefits of this war certainly outweighed the risks. With the Order gone, nothing could threaten to take her from him. He could live out the rest of eternity with her by his side, conquering the world if they liked. The thought quickly brought a smile to his eyes and he found himself moving towards her absentmindedly, lost in his own daydreams of the future.

The duel between Lucian and Afina had become incredibly heated by this point. Lucian had grown weary of the fight, and with the elders all cheering for Afina, he knew he didn't stand a chance. Taking one wrong step gave her the perfect opening to deliver the finishing blow and the cold steel driving through his abdomen couldn't have been more welcome – even if it hurt like hell.

The dimly lit ballroom was soon filled with the sound of applause coming from the small group of onlookers. While Dragoş wrapped his arms around his niece, lifting her into the air and twirling her about, Dracula offered his hand to Lucian who was lying on the cool marble floor in an effort to recover from the exertion.

"You've trained her well, Count," Lucian commented, taking the offered hand and allowing Dracula to pull him to his feet.

"It's all still very fresh for her," he explained. "You were looking rather rusty."

"I haven't had a proper duel since Alrik was destroyed."

"Excuses!" Dragoş exclaimed, letting Afina go so he could wrap an arm around his wife who had just joined them.

"No, it's a fact," Lucian argued in good humor. "I'm positive that if this was a dancing contest, I'd have her beat! And Adnraste would have her at archery."

"I don't doubt that for a second!" Afina replied.

"Besides, I _let_ her win," Lucian insisted, though partially in teasing. But Afina wouldn't hear it.

"You lie!"

"I most certainly do not! I let you beat me. That last step for me was on purpose."

"Well then I insist we go again!" she exclaimed, drawing her saber and pointing it in his direction. "I'm not one for sympathy wins. I am not a charity case. You don't have to preserve my feelings. Come! Defend yourself!"

"Oh no, I'm not fighting with you again!" Lucian replied, hands up in the air in defeat. "I've had my share. What I really need is a proper meal."

"You coward!" she laughed.

"Not a coward," Lucian corrected. "I just know how to pick my battles." He bowed deeply towards her. "And I'm _not_ picking this one. Besides, I have a dinner date with Dorina that I'm running late for, so if you'll excuse me."

"Send my regards to Agnar," Dracula insisted as Lucian made his way out of the ballroom.

There was a comfortable silence that lingered in the room after Lucian's departure until Reunan clapped his hands together once before rubbing his palms.

"Now then, for the next match, I propose a duel between Afina and Dracula."

There were mutters of agreement and Dragoş was quick to second the proposition.

"Yes! Let's see if the protégé has surpassed her mentor," Dragoş agreed.

"This should be interesting!"

"Oh no, no, no," Afina insisted. "I'm not going to fight Vlad."

"What's the matter, Afina?" Dracula asked with a wicked gleam in his eye as he kicked up Lucian's saber from off the floor and caught it dramatically. "Afraid you'll lose?"

"No, you show off. I just don't like how you fight. You play dirty."

"Of course I do. This isn't a gentlemen's duel."

"You also don't fight for fun," she reminded him. "There always has to be some kind of prize or punishment at the end of it."

"It gives the duelists something to fight for," he defended.

"I'm not fighting you."

"Come, it'll be just like when you and I used to practice."

"Except this isn't Vaseria, and things aren't the same anymore. This," and she motioned between the two of them several times with her hand, "isn't exactly _platonic_ anymore. I know how you work."

"Shhh! Afina, don't give it away. You'll spoil it for our guests," he teased.

"Oh stop pretending like they don't know!"

"You're always thinking the worst of me! Come, if you know me so well, what is this prize that is so scandalous, that you refuse to duel me."

"If you win," she explained dramatically, "that is a very big IF – you'll want a kiss. But not just any kiss, mind you, ladies and gentlemen. No. A _proper_ one," she laughed. "Would you care to explain what a proper kiss is to the others, Vlad?"

He rolled his eyes.

"Are you quite finished?" he asked. She bowed her head towards him, still smiling as she motioned with her hand for him to continue.

"Please, astonish me," she dared him.

"Contrary to what you may believe, I don't want _anything_ from you," he replied to the surprise of everyone. "Just the satisfaction that comes from knowing I've bested you." He extended his blade, pointing it towards her. "First to three hits – that includes scratches or actual stabs – wins. Agreed?" She nodded her head in acquiescence before sending him a suspicious look.

"Does this mean you'll fight fair?" she asked, crossing blades with him.

"Most certainly not," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes and he stepped forward to attack.

He went easy on her at first, his attacks reminiscent of when he was first teaching her, as he made comments on her parries, her form, and her footwork. Then the attacks became more regular as he advanced quickly, moving at a brisk pace that forced her to step back so she could properly block his blade. He thrust his blade suddenly and when she made a move to block it, he vanished before her eyes and she felt a sharp sting as the tip of his blade ran across her back, creating a long cut between her shoulder blades.

"That's one for me," she heard him say from behind. She quickly turned, her sword swinging towards his head but he blocked it just in time. Afina's movements were fierce and calculated as she channeled her every emotion into her movements. On the outside, Dracula remained perfectly calm as he reacted to each attack with expert precision, but inside, he couldn't help but be deeply amused by the concentration in her eyes.

With a single wave of her blade, it was she who suddenly vanished and he quickly turned around to meet her when then realized she wasn't there. He turned back around only to run into her blade, the tip driving through his abdomen.

"That wasn't very fair," he commented, but she merely smiled.

"No – _this_ isn't fair," and she pulled her blade from his body before kicking his sword out of his hand and catching it, pointing both blades at him. "Now then, let's see, which of the five rules of the hunt did that just cover? Always have the upper hand and use the element of surprise? You need to work on being aware of your surroundings, Vlad," she teased and she flicked the edge of his blade once and watched as it scratched over his collar. "I believe that's two for me."

"And you said _I_ play dirty."

"Oh this isn't playing dirty. I still have my clothes on," and she tossed him his sword, holding hers up in readiness.

"Is that an invitation?" he asked coyly, a dark look in his eyes.

"You wish," she replied, running her blade up and down his in a way that was almost suggestive.

Their swords clashed once again and those present in the room watched as the two moved with inhuman speed and agility. The movement of the blades was so quick, it had become nearly impossible to keep track of where and how they moved. The two taunted one another in an effort to get a violent reaction from the other, but no matter the tactic involved, both remained utterly focused.

It wasn't until the Count snatched a small dagger from Reunan' s waist that things took a turn. With an expert throw, the dagger soon found itself buried just below Afina's right shoulder, the distraction giving Dracula the perfect opportunity to reach out and grab her wrist so he could move away her blade.

"Don't you da –" she began, but before she could finish, his blade ran right through her abdomen and he pushed it all the way in to the hilt, sheathing it inside of her.

"I win," he announced smugly.

"You cheated!'

"There were no rules about using additional weaponry."

"That was a given!"

"You never stated it."

"Do I have to spell out everything for you?"

"I've always preferred explicitness."

"You are impossible!"

"And you lost," he teased, pulling the blade out of her. "Don't be a sore loser."

She grumbled curses under her breath but ceded, pulling Reunan' s dagger out of her shoulder and tossing it over to him, her glare still fixed on Dracula.

"You still did an excellent job, my dear," Dragoş insisted. "And not every fight will be fair."

"Perhaps not. Though contrary to what the Count thinks, I didn't lose."

"Yes you did, Afina. Just accept it with grace and move on. I am clearly superior. There is no argument!"

"Aren't you forgetting something?" she asked and she motioned for him to turn around. As he did, the others noticed the hilt of a small knife in his back. He managed to pull it out and realized the blade was his own. He hadn't even felt her pull it out of his boot!

Dragoş' cheer for Afina's victory was echoed by the others as they laughed and applauded.

"How do I know you didn't just now stab me with this?"

"Now, now, Vlad," she teased. "Don't be a sore loser."

His forced laughter which clearly illustrated his lack of amusement only made Afina's smile more wicked.

"You know I'll just punish you for this later," he replied, moving towards her as the others discussed their favorite parts of the duel, trying to determine when Afina had managed to thieve the small dagger and stab him without his realization. Dracula held the blade, just as bewildered as the others, the tip pointed in Afina's direction. She merely smiled at his words, bending her head forward towards the blade. He watched as she extended her tongue and ran it over the steel, lapping up his blood in one sensuous draw.

"I look forward to it," she said, her words low enough so only he could hear.

The look in her eyes sent a delightful shiver down his spine and any anger he might have felt quickly melted away.

"_Garden. Five minutes_," he whispered in his old tongue. She glanced briefly towards the others who were all still too busy talking. "_Don't worry. I'll take care of them_," he assured her. She excused herself from the presence of the others shortly thereafter and they all offered their congratulations as she exited the room. Dracula soon claimed he had business to attend to in his study and was to remain undisturbed, and his guests assured him that they were perfectly capable of entertaining themselves until his return.

When they were at last situated in the drawing room, concocting plans to go and treat Afina to the opera the following evening, the Count took the opportunity to slip out and into the gardens in the back of the house facing the forest-covered mountains behind them. The grounds of Vilkova had always been impressive; he had made sure of it. It was a century's worth of painstaking attention to detail and a vast collection of flowers, foliage, trees, and multiple fountains, water features, and a couple statues, romantically overgrown in some areas and trimmed and tended to perfection in others, creating a miniature Eden. There was no moon that evening, leaving the lights of the house and the stars above as the only light in the darkness – not that he needed the light. He could see just fine without it.

He made his way through the gardens with haste, though he was careful to master the anticipation swelling inside of him. Though he and Afina were almost always in one another's presence, it was the few stolen moments alone that he had really come to treasure. When he couldn't find her in the garden he looked over at the cemetery on the hill that rested on the outskirts of his property and could see her wandering between the graves. It didn't take long for him to catch up to her.

"I thought I said the garden?"

"Sorry, I got distracted and ended up here," she explained, circling a large statue of an angel weeping over a handsome looking grave. Her eyes were fixed on the face of the stone angel and Dracula took several steps forward so he could stand beside her. "Do you ever wonder if the angels weep for us?"

"I doubt it."

She looked over at him, the slightest of smiles tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"When I say _angels_, I'm not automatically referring to Gabriel Van Helsing, Vlad."

"Gabriel may have been an archangel, but it would be a stretch to say he behaved like one."

"What exactly did he do to lose his memories?"

"I honestly don't know, but he was fallen long before _that_ ever happened."

"What made him fall from God's grace?"

"A woman."

Afina chuckled.

"How typical. Let me guess," and she started walking again, "was she some kind of evil creature? A demon, perhaps? A succubus? A witch or sorceress?"

"My second wife, actually."

Afina halted mid-step and turned around slowly to look back at him.

"The one he pushed out of a window?"

"The same one. He blamed me for his fall afterwards and then proceeded to destroy everything I had dedicated my life to creating – my household, my country, my kingdom – all of it."

"It must have been more than that. You forget, I know Van Helsing personally. He doesn't strike me as the vengeful type."

"He used to be much more proud than the man you know now. Was always very self-assured – a curse of sorts, being the left hand of God."

The two were seated on a bench now, overlooking the grounds of Vilkova that was lit up like a beacon in the night with a slumbering Budapest in the valley below the mountains.

"Have you ever thought about forgiving him?" she asked carefully.

"I did once," he confessed. "But he and I are beyond that now and we both know it. The only way this will end is with blood."

"His or yours?" she inquired, her voice soft and timid, as if the very question pained her. He noticed the inflection in her voice and he took her hand in his as if to reassure her.

"His," he answered emphatically. "I have bled enough in this feud. It's his turn to suffer."

"But what if…"

"No _if_s, Afina. I will not die at his hand a third time."

"I just… I don't…"

She couldn't seem to get the words out, but something in him knew what she wanted to say and his eyes softened as he gently placed two fingers beneath her chin, raising her gaze to meet his.

"You worry too much," he whispered gently with a smile.

"Can you blame me?" she asked as his hand held the side of her face. "First it was Craven and his coup, now Tom's suspicious disappearance and the Order knows we're coming. And after living my entire life thinking I was alone in this world, I suddenly have a family I could lose, and I don't think I could bear it if I lost y–"

He stopped her fretting by pressing his lips against hers rather unexpectedly. She tensed at first out of surprise, but soon eased into his kiss and into his arms as he pulled her closer to him, his hand smoothing along the curve of her back. He then tenderly rested his head against hers, relishing in the silence.

"You know, it's strange," she breathed, her eyes still closed. "You have this wonderful ability to make me forget what I was worrying about in the first place."

"I've been told on several occasions that I have that effect on people," he teased, kissing her lips ever so gently. He felt her hand rest on his thigh as she leaned into him, returning his kiss.

"Then please, continue to distract me. I'm so tired of thinking."

* * *

**No musical influences for this chapter - more like a scene. I was watching _Die Another Day_ (a James Bond movie from the Pierce Brosnan era) and there's a fabulously choreographed fencing/sword fight scene between Brosnan and Toby Stephens and I thought it would be fun to see Afina and the Count duel since I did "skip over" Afina's year of intensive training with him. But as always what I intended to write ended up taking a life of it's own. **

**Whatever. I'm over it. **

**Reviews are always appreciated! A special thanks to **Riona Winters** and **invisible reader** for their reviews of the last chapter! **

**We're three chapters away from the conclusion of this story! *gasp* **


	15. Entwined

**Special thanks to **invisible reader** and **KaiaUchiha1 **for their reviews of the last chapter****!**

**Please forgive any errors you may find within this chapter. ENJOY! **

* * *

**Chapter 15: Entwined**

Afina was lying on a bed that was not her own, on top of the covers that had otherwise been undisturbed, her head gently cradled by a firm pillow, the fabric cool against her skin. The snows of the central Apennine Mountains had been falling for several hours now. She had left the balcony windows open so she could watch as the dark night sky began to gradually lighten, the coming dawn approaching. With the heavy cloud cover, the only color in the sky was that of grey and the softest of blues. Everything else was shrouded in a blanket of white, the color matching the light chiffon curtains that floated in the wind, the plain-woven sheer fabric appearing more like ghosts.

Try as she might, Afina couldn't shake the unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach, a feeling that had grown at an alarming rate the closer the vampires' war with the Knights of the Holy Order became. They were a single evening away from that fateful event and with it so close, Afina was starting to second-guess her actions of encouraging a war in the first place. She still couldn't fully understand why she had done it to begin with. What was her motivation for encouraging the Count to take part in something that could easily lead to the destruction of so many? Every time she racked her brain for an answer, she was met with nothing but a dull headache – a symptom that reminded her a great deal of when she had been without her memories. Perhaps she hadn't retrieved them all as she had thought? The chances of that being the case were slim. She had no missing moments, no lost hours in her memory; but even with such an assurance, she still felt terribly uneasy.

The icy wind felt good on her skin, however, and she relished in it, continuing to watch as the sky gradually grew lighter. She reflected back on the last two weeks – how quickly they had flown. The elders of the bloodlines had rapidly become family to her – closer than any other family she had ever known when she had been mortal. Her uncle, Dragoş, had doted on her whenever he could, never sparing any expense, and his wife, her aunt Raynora, adored her. Afina had come to learn that Verona, the late bride of the Count, had been like an adopted daughter to them and they had felt her loss tremendously. But having Afina in their lives seemed to help fill whatever hole Verona had left. Not completely, but some, and they could not have been more pleased. The other elders felt the same in regards to their lost daughters, the late brides of Count Dracula. Afina, with her sweetness of manner, and seemingly natural grace, even with her private concerns, made their loss less bitter.

But no matter where Afina went, Vlad had always been by her side. Since the night of his All Hallows Eve ball, something in him had noticeably changed. Although he was still consumed with passion, he never crossed the line she had created the night of the ball. He always treated her with a reverence, adoration, and deep respect that pleased her greatly. Not once had he forced himself upon her – something which genuinely surprised their acquaintances. He doted and revered her like a bride, kissed her with the need and familiarity of a lover, but he treated her like something more – not just an equal, but in a strange sort of way, his superior.

Although the words had never been spoken, she was his and he worshipped her in his own way. Whenever there were any discussions on battle plans or the war with Rome, he made certain that she was always present. His trust in her was so implicit, and his devotion ever so steady, he made it so easy for her to fall in love with him – and fall she had. Afina couldn't imagine her existence without him there, and perhaps it was those intense feelings that were making her so uneasy now? With the war with the Order so close, and victory not guaranteed, despite Dracula's every assurance, Afina still couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps they were rushing into a trap.

Even now, on the eve of battle, she struggled to calm her ill-at-ease mind and had to force herself to focus on the falling snow outside.

She heard the door to the bedchambers open and shut quietly, the sound of hessian boots gently stepping across the stone floor of the ancient castle which was nestled in the heart of the Italian mountains.

"Are you awake?" she heard the Count ask from behind her. She didn't roll over to look at him, but she did reply with a nearly inaudible "yes". She felt him sit down on the other side of the bed, his eyes on her. "It's freezing in here."

"I like the cold," she explained, still staring blankly out the window at the snow-covered peaks. "It helps to clear my head." He was laying behind her now and she made no resistance when he pulled her close to him, his arm draped over her waist.

"You've seemed more uneasy the last few days – more so than before," he noted, and she could feel the breath of his words against her neck.

"I'm just worried that maybe we rushed into this impending war," she admitted, rolling over so she could look at him. "What if this is what the Order wanted all along? What if it's a trap?"

"It's not a trap," he assured her, pulling her close to him again and tenderly kissing her forehead.

"But what if it is?" she asked him, her tone of voice illustrating her concern. "I've been thinking about what you said to me last month – when you asked me what my motivation was for helping you. I can't help but feel that something is horribly wrong, Vlad, with this entire situation. What if the Order knew what I was, who my father was? What if they're using me to get to you, or to Dragoş, or any of the other elders? What if _I'm_ the trap?"

He chuckled.

"I'm serious!" she insisted. "Vlad, I went almost a month and a half having no idea who I was. What if I didn't get all of my memories back?"

"You are not a trap, my bellator," he replied with a laugh in his voice as he tried to console her. "As honey coated as you are."

"But what if you're wrong?" she pleaded, sitting up. "Maybe I shouldn't go with you. Maybe I shouldn't go to Rome. You should send me someplace else, someplace far away."

"You aren't going anywhere," and he pulled her back down so she was lying with her head cradled in his arm, his face perched over hers. "Afina, I want you beside me."

"But Vlad…"

"Woman, for once in your life, just… listen," he contended, a gentle look of teasing in his eyes before his expression grew more serious. He looked into her eyes for several long silent moments. He would never tire of looking into those irises – it was as though she had somehow managed to trap the entire ocean in them, with waves of turquoise and cerulean swirling together, woven with streams of lightning before falling into the black abyss of her pupils. The back of his fingers caressed her cheek with a tenderness that gradually soothed her. Who was this man leaning over her, she thought to herself. She had seen glimpses of him from a far over the last year or so, but never this close, and never with the look that was in his eyes in that moment. This wasn't the Count Dracula the world feared and revered.

"Do you remember when you accused me, most vehemently, that in my extended existence I had run out of things to live for?" he asked her.

"It was at Vilkova – the night Elizabeth arrived."

He nodded and continued.

"You were partially correct that evening when you said that in my lifetimes of living I had run out of things to live for, that all I had left was my revenge. And had you said those words to me a year ago, you would have been completely and utterly accurate in your assertion. I think you believed me devoid of feeling."

"I was frustrated with you and had spoken out of turn," she apologized.

"I understand that, and I'm sure much of your frustration could have been avoided if I had been honest with you from the beginning. But I am not the kind of man to offer myself to another and what I've come to feel for you is something I've felt in degrees for others, but never like this – never so wholly and so completely." He rested his forehead tenderly against her own, their eyes closed as they breathed one another in, the only sound being that of the winter wind in the snow-laden forest in the mountains outside.

"Afina, when I was alive, both of my marriages were arranged. As a vampire, the selections of my brides were politically motivated. They were pawns in a game for power and though I was fond of them, I did not feel for them the way I've come to feel for you. And I think that may be because I didn't _choose_ them. But you… I chose you. I chose you from the beginning, when you first appeared at my door. Because if I wanted anyone by my side as my ally, if I had to pick anyone to fight alongside, or fight to be with, it would be you. And it would still be you if I had to do it all over again," he whispered, still continuing to sweetly caress her face and hair with his fingertips.

Her eyes were closed, lips gently parted in a breathlessness that he found spellbindingly beautiful.

"It wasn't me that chose the darkness all those years ago, Afina, but the other way around. You are the only light I've had in that darkness and if I have to destroy the Order to ensure that I can spend the remainder of my existence with you, if it means risking a trap or the destruction of my kind, I'll do it because you've come to be all I have to live for now. I don't want anything else. But I also know that I can't win this fight without you. I've only gotten this far because of you… I need you at my side."

Her eyes were opened now and she was staring up at him, lost in his gaze, even as his fingertips continued to trace the contours of her face. It felt so good to be in his arms, to be caressed by his touch, to hear this declaration that sounded very much like one of love. Although her instincts still insisted that this fight with the Order was unwise, she offered him a reassuring smile.

"I don't want anyone or anything else, Afina," he said. "I just want you. I want to get lost in you, until I cannot tell where I end and you begin."

There was a deep sensuality to his words and she suddenly couldn't wait for this war to be over and it hadn't even started yet.

"Then by your side I shall be," she said. "On one condition."

"And what might that be?" he grinned mischievously, kissing her gently.

"When all of this is over, I want a break from society – a _long_ break. Someplace cold, in the mountains and hidden away. Just you and I."

"I know just the place."

"What? Castle Dracula?" she teased, kissing his hand.

"That's exactly what I mean," he replied, his fingers gently brushing against her parted lips. "A fortress carved out of a single peak in the heart of the Carpathians, made of stone and ice."

"I've never heard of this castle."

"Then I'll have to show it to you, when all of this is done."

"How do we get there?" she asked him and she felt him in her mind as he shared memories of the journey with her – just flashes of images, to wet her appetite.

"There is a hidden trail, deep in the mountains, in the thickest part of the forest," he began, his voice soft, deep, and soothing – almost hypnotic. "The trail is often buried in several feet of snow off of the Borgo pass. It is too narrow for any carriage or horse to travel and it winds through the mountains for several miles and ends at a massive cliff that falls several thousand feet down into a gorge. The only way to get to the castle is to fly."

"Does anyone else know about this place?" Her voice was almost a dreamy sigh.

"A select few. The journey is long and difficult and it's easy to get lost in the snow when taken on foot. Those that fly and do not know what they are looking for often pass it, as the castle blends in with the peaks, often shrouded by thick clouds. I rarely, if ever, receive any visitors there."

"Sounds perfect."

The dark look in his eyes spoke of his approval of her reaction and he leaned over her more fully and captured her lips with his. The kiss was almost timid, so gentle, yet so full of veneration, Afina felt herself become light-headed. His mouth then hovered over hers for several long moments as they breathed one another in, lips barely touching, both struggling with their individual passions. She lifted her head to kiss him, but he moved his head away from hers, almost playfully.

"If I kiss you anymore like this, I can't guarantee that I'll be able to restrain myself," he clarified, answering her unasked demand for an explanation. "_Heaven help me, I want you_."

She always loved it when he spoke in his native tongue, the words always rolled past his lips almost sensually.

"You are beyond heaven's help," she teased.

"That doesn't change what I feel, because I swear, only God Himself will be able to restrain me."

"What's this? The great Count Dracula, reduced to submitting to a God he's renounced?" she chuckled and she rolled over so she could pin him beneath her.

"Only because I've never fallen before," he confessed. "I couldn't stop myself from hitting the ground if I tried."

"Don't worry. I'll catch you," and she kissed him fully and deeply, his fingers entwined with hers on the bed. Her kisses made it feel like a storm was rising beneath his skin – as if she was the moon and he was the ocean. He resisted the hold of her hands with relative ease and sat up with her still straddling his waist. The way his mouth moved against hers, the way his tongue caressed and explored the inside of her mouth, made her warm down to her toes. His hands smoothed up her sides, drinking in the feel of the silk nightgown she was wearing before his hands found her naked spine. The feeling of his palms and fingers on her skin sent a bolt of electricity through her body, that energy only intensifying when his mouth found her neck.

The lowest he went was to her collarbone until he found that sweet spot right where her shoulder curved up into her neck and he suckled the skin, licking and raking his teeth over the flesh until it flushed from the abuse. He teased her neck and shoulder with little love bites that slowly began to drive her wild and her fangs lengthened in her arousal.

"Bite me," she pleaded he ravished her neck.

The command caught him off guard and he stopped for a moment, looking up into her eyes. They were glowing that electrified blue and were drunk with desire.

"Are you certain?" he inquired, taking the side of her face in his hand. He watched as she lifted a clawed finger and scratched the skin of her throat, one long line that erupted with her dark blood. He watched as it dribbled from the self-inflicted wound, the dark crimson slowly running over her collarbone in a little stream.

"Feed from me, Vladislaus," she commanded him. "Feed from me like I'm your last meal, like we're going to die tomorrow night and this is your only chance to have me. With the morning sun as our witness that no matter what happens in Rome, we'll have this. We will always have this."

Afina knew the gravity of what she was asking for. With all of his speeches about choosing her and needing her, here was his one chance to prove how much he meant it – and in the most intimate of ways for a vampire. It was strange, though, because he didn't need to be told twice, didn't need a moment to contemplate the significance of it all. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he bent his head down and pressed his tongue at the end of the stream of blood that was now making its way over the mound of one breast and he followed that stream all the way up to the source, licking the cut clean just as it closed. The small taste of her blood excited him and his fangs lengthened in his mouth. He dragged his open, breathless mouth over the curve of her neck and shoulder, breathing in her gently perfumed. He soon found the perfect place to sink his fangs and he teased her by grazing the sharp tips over her flesh before biting down.

The pain felt delicious to Afina, and she held his head in place as he devoured mouthfuls of her rich blood. The taste of her blood aroused him in ways he wasn't prepared for and he felt it all the way down in his groin, spreading like electricity up and down his spine, through every artery, vein, and capillary. Eager for her to feel the same, he pulled his face away from the crook of her neck, quickly removing his shirt before pulling her face down to his neck. Her teeth sank into the flesh above his collarbone and he groaned in a delirious kind of anguish as her tongue pressed against the wound.

Her reaction was similar to his – a delicious kind of ecstasy that spread through her veins like wildfire, the pleasure better than anything she had ever known. When she pulled back for air, breathing deep as if to gain control over herself, he went in for the other side of her neck. The moan that escaped her was deep and long, only inciting his passions further. He offered her his wrist as he fed and felt her bite into it, accepting his offering without a moment's hesitation, drunk with desire, falling back onto the bed. He let her feed from his wrist as he kissed a bloody trail down her front before moving his hand away as he lifted her hips, opening her legs and pushing her nightgown up as high as it would go.

He could feel her watching him expectantly.

He held her gaze as he bent his head down between her legs before sinking his teeth into her femoral artery in her inner thigh just as the sun broke over the horizon, the light flooding the room and bathing their pale limbs in a golden light. The feeling of him drinking from her thigh with the palm of his right hand resting at the apex between her legs was all too much for Afina. The tension that had been mounting inside of her shortly gave way, releasing in a powerful wave that nearly knocked the wind out of her, and for what felt like several long, glorious moments of exquisite agony, it was as though she were amongst the stars. He held her hand the entire time he drank from her thigh, as if to anchor her, her own pleasure soon completing his own.

When it was done, he kissed her thoroughly, tasting his blood in her mouth, leaving him deeply satisfied. He could feel her blood buzzing inside of him, could feel her pleasure, just as she could feel his. They were connected now – entwined in all ways but in the flesh. He held her in his arms, unable to pry his mouth from hers as they kissed one another, each kiss slow and deliberate until the kisses gradually ceased and he held her close, his arms and legs tangled in her own.

"I am yours," he whispered into her hair and he felt her moist lips press against his chest where his heart was.

"And I am yours."

The two of them lingered like this for several languorous minutes until Afina told him to hold her tighter. When he asked her if she was alright, she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into the crook of his neck.

"I still don't feel good about Rome," she confessed. He held her as tightly as he could in an effort to help her feel safe, but her own anxieties about tomorrow evening were starting to make him uneasy.

"I know, my bellator. I know."

* * *

**Musical Influences: **_  
_[1]_ C'est le ciel qui m'envoie_, from Jacques Offenbach's "La Belle Hélène"  
[2]_ Acte Trois - C'est toi, mon père_, performed by Renée Fleming and Thomas Hampson, "Massenet – Thaïs"  
[3]_ The Passion of King Henry_, by Trevor Morris, "The Tudors" OST  
[4]_ Lucian and Sonja's Love Theme_, by Paul Haslinger, "Underworld: Rise of the Lycans" score  
[5]_ Kissing A Wolf_, by Johnny Klimek and Reinhold Heil, "Blood & Chocolate" score*  
[6]_ Love In The Eyes_, Ramin Djawadi, "Game of Thrones" season 1  
[7]_ Are You The One_, by Within Temptation, unreleased song

[ * ] missing from YouTube playlist

**Note: some of these songs may seem a bit strange, especially for this chapter - but sometimes a line or a phrase or an image helps to create ideas, so I felt it best to include those, as they were - technically speaking - influences.**

**Let me know what you thought! Tumblr blog and YouTube playlist have both been update to reflect inspirations for this chapter. Links located in profile page.  
**


	16. Darkest Hour

**I can still remember the song I was listening to when this and the follow chapter popped into my head. It was Two Steps From Hell's _Undying Love_. I don't necessarily know why that particular song inspired the following pair of chapters, but it did, and I remember when the idea came, it hit me so hard to the point that I had to pull over in my car because I couldn't see due to the tears. **

**Because these two chapters are so closely intertwined, I've decided to post them together. This goes completely against my publishing schedule, but screw it. You're getting both of them now. **

**I have agonized over these chapters for well over a month and a half now. Even with that agonizing they remain imperfect, but hopefully I was able to get across just an inkling of the vision in my head. This wasn't the original direction I had planned on going with this story - mostly because the grand scale of it all was and still is very challenging to get across. Hopefully I did it justice.  
**

**Please forgive the errors you may find within. The musical influences for this and the following chapter will be in the author's notes at the ending of chapter 17, so there aren't any "interruptions" between chapters. The Epilogue will probably be posted sometime later this week or next week.**

** And, as always, let me know what you think! Reviews are ALWAYS appreciated! **

**A huge thanks to **KaiaUchiha1** and **invisible reader** for their reviews of chapter 15 and an even bigger thanks to **Cosmopolitan Countess** for going back to review each of the earlier chapters this last week when she was playing catch-up. I always love hearing what you have to say! **

**ENJOY!**

* * *

**Chapter 16: Darkest Hour**

The sun was setting and Gabriel Van Helsing couldn't seem to shake the sense of foreboding that had settled in his stomach as he rode a black stallion through the gates and across the Piazza San Pietro, the enormous courtyard in front of St. Peter's Basilica. The bells chimed as he passed two enormous fountains and the two semicircular rows of columns that surrounded the large open space.

St. Peter's was the oldest, and arguably the greatest structure in all of Christendom. The lore behind the building stated that it had been built on the very site that Peter, one of Christ's beloved apostles, had been buried after his inverted crucifixion – to put it plainly, it had been built on his very blood.

The church carried the weight of centuries on its columns, having endured the lives of countless kings, rulers, popes, and wars – holy and otherwise.

The notorious hunter reached the stairs in front of the church and quickly dismounted, soon greeted by a cardinal dressed in red.

"Well?" Cardinal Jinette inquired, struggling to remain composed.

"They're coming," was all Van Helsing said, and he glanced warily behind him at the red sky above before ushering the man into the church. The large doors were quickly shut behind them as the two men strode across the marble floor. The light inside the building came primarily from the clerestories, the upper portion of the outer walls that held the stained-glass windows. The light streaming in through those windows in the evening had always been strangely comforting to Van Helsing in the past, but with the light of a red sun streaming in through the windows and gradually disappearing into darkness, it served only as a reminder that they were running out of time.

The cathedral was built in the shape of a cross, at the center of which was the great dome created by Michelangelo himself. The structure was more than seven hundred feet deep, and it took the two some time to reach their destination. There were no monks chanting this evening. The only thing that could be heard was the quick steps of the two men and the bells in the distance.

The two reached an ornate confessional and stepped inside and with a flick of a switch, the wall opened up, revealing a secret staircase.

"Were you able to get the others out?" the hunter asked as they made their way down the spiral stairs.

"Yes. The Holy Father arrived safely in Spain this morning. Most of the Bishops are out of the city. The few that remain we had to – take care of."

Van Helsing looked at the Cardinal with an arched expression.

"That's kind of blasphemous, isn't it?"

"Desperate times," Jinette replied, crossing himself. "And what about you? Did you complete your mission?"

"Yes. Craven had confirmed that one of our allies, Tom, had managed to successfully pollute all blood and wine in Vilkova the night of Dracula's party."

"And he wasn't discovered?"

"Dracula never pays any attention to his servants, apparently. And even if he had, Miss Nouveau was distraction enough. All of the vampires should be linked to Count Dracula now – whether directly or through the head of their bloodline. When he is destroyed, they all go with him."

"And Tom and his family?"

"I received word that he and his family arrived safely in New York City last week. They are out of danger."

"And what of our _vampire_ allies?" Jinette couldn't help but say the words with mild disgust.

"Craven disobeyed your orders and made a move to attack the night of the ball. My only surviving source said that all members of the coup were destroyed."

"One less thing we have to deal with, I suppose," the Cardinal replied, muttering a prayer for their lost souls as they reached the underground armory below. It was enormous, but still only a small part of the subterranean universe that was hiding under the great basilica.

The entire place was bustling with action – more so than usual – as the employed monks and scientists struggled to prepare themselves for battle. Steam of the blast furnaces were filling the air and the fires roared. Jewish rabbis, Hindu priests, Christian monks and friars, and Muslim imams all worked alongside one another like a well-oiled machine, working billows, hammering red-hot scimitars on anvils, loading weapons – preparing for war.

"And what of our mole?" the Cardinal inquired.

"Safe, for the time being."

"Undiscovered, I hope."

"Yes, as far as I could gather."

"And current status?"

"The stone is still active. If I can't defeat Dracula myself, I can activate the weapon. Either way, he won't be walking out of this alive."

"None of them will be," the Cardinal replied and the two stopped to watch as everyone bustled about with purpose and desperation. There was a tension in the air that was palpable and though it sent adrenaline rushing through Van Helsing's veins, a part of him prayed that Dracula would call the whole thing off.

The vampires weren't the only ones that wouldn't survive the night. Each individual in that room knew that chances for survival were virtually non-existent. But they wouldn't go down without a fight. And what a fight it would be!

"What will happen to the Order, when all of this is done?"

"God be willing, we'll survive as we always do."

"That's a little naïvely optimistic, don't you think?" Van Helsing asked.

"I have faith that God will deliver us."

"I hope you're right."

"You don't believe we will endure, that God will not come to our aid when we have dedicated our lives to doing His work?" the Cardinal inquired. Van Helsing could tell some of the others were listening in on their conversation. He knew what they needed most was some kind of encouragement, but he couldn't give it to them. He had learned a great deal about his relationship with Dracula – or more specifically, with Vlad the Impaler. Although he couldn't recall his past actions, the evidence was there. He knew he had what was coming to him, he just wished it hadn't come to this – an inevitable bloodbath.

"I think we're standing at the mouth of Hell, on the verge of coming face to face with all the wrath of the devil himself. To put it plainly, Father, I think we're about to have our asses handed to us."

He half expected the Cardinal to chastise him for blasphemy, and was surprised when he didn't.

"Then we give it all back, and twice as hard. The wrath of God is greater than that of Lucifer and his legions of fallen angels."

"Whatever happened to turning the other cheek?" he asked irreverently, an amused grin on his face.

Jinette merely smiled.

"I can turn the other cheek and swing a left hook at the same time just fine. I am certain that you can do the same."

Carl suddenly appeared. Van Helsing hardly recognized the friar at first, as he had ditched the traditional robes for something less cumbersome, with a light armor underneath. He had a gas-propelled crossbow slung over his shoulder. It was amazing how much the man had changed in the last six years – from awkward to far more put-together and confident.

"The men above are ready for action, Father," he reported to the Cardinal with a slight bow. "There have been sightings of vampires at the base of the Apennines. It is expected that they'll descend upon us in less than an hour." He looked over at Van Helsing, slight trepidation in his eyes. "Dracula has been sited."

"How many are there?"

"Five or six hundred at the very least."

"God help us."

"Afina is with them. She's been made the Count's right hand."

The sound of the woman's name sent the entire room utterly still as an unnerving silence fell over all of them.

"Is it true that she…" Carl began, but Van Helsing cut him off before he could finish.

"Yes."

"Can she remember _anything_?"

"Many things, but apparently her transition was so traumatizing, some of her memories are still lost. She didn't even recognize Tom, and he's been working as a double agent for the Order for decades."

"Then how are we even supposed to stand a chance against them if she can't remember? I told you sending her in that deep undercover was too dangerous!" Carl practically shouted. "Henric told you the same thing and still you sent her."

"She's strong, she can take care of herself."

"But what if she's become… you know… emotionally involved with the Count?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"But you know what her mother's relationship was like with Dracula," Carl reminded both of them. "She grew up admiring the man. Alrik himself said she was destined for him."

"It doesn't matter. The situation is under control," Van Helsing insisted.

"But how? It's not like you can just tell her to kill Dracula and expect her to do it! He almost had Anna, Van Helsing, or don't you remember?"

The sound of the last Valerious' name sent a sharp pain through the hunter's heart.

"She was under a spell."

"Was she really? Is that what you've been telling yourself for the last seven years?"

"Enough! Both of you!" Jinette hissed. "Now is not the time to quarrel. It does not matter if Afina has taken the Count's side. We have our weapon and we will use it if necessary. Dracula will not live to see the sunrise and neither will _any_ of the vampires. They all die tonight, with or without her. Understood?"

The two fell silent, but nodded and Van Helsing excused himself.

"Carl, prepare for battle. And send word the moment they cross over the threshold. We'll be ready for them if your lines are breached."

"Understood."

"And Carl?"

"Yes Father?"

"God be with you, my son," Jinette said, crossing himself before blessing the friar. Carl returned the gesture and then disappeared up the staircase. "God help us all," the Cardinal whispered to himself as he helped to finish with the final preparations.

Carl was left with roughly a hundred men to guard the entrance to the basilica. They stood there in the darkness of the night for nearly two hours with only the light of a full moon to keep them company as they stared straight ahead at the front gate of the Vatican. Rome was remarkably quiet that evening, absent of the usual comforting noises of revelers, drunks, or the occasional passing carriage. It was nearly an hour before midnight and Carl could tell his men were getting anxious – particularly when the lot of them jumped at the sound of a young woman's scream from almost a mile away. They could hear her running towards the Vatican, pleading for help from anyone that could hear her.

"Vampires!" she shrieked. "Vampires! Somebody! Anybody! Help." She threw herself against the Vatican gates and pulled at them in desperation. "Open the gates!" she screamed. "Sanctuary! Please! Please! Someone! Anyone!"

There was an unearthly roar from the shadows and the woman turned around to glance behind her. The scream that tore out of her throat sent an unsettling chill down every spine in the piazza. The men could barely make out the figure of the woman as she continued to rattle the gate of the Vatican, as if her meager strength could somehow break the chains that held it shut.

"Peter!" Carl called, and he motioned toward the woman at the gate. The monk-turned-solider understood the silent command and though hesitant, he obeyed and quickly made his way across the plaza to the gate.

"Oh thank God, bless you, bless you!" the woman sobbed, still clutching the bars of the gate as tightly as she could, so much so that her knuckles had gone white. Her neck had clearly been bitten into and she had blood running all over her.

"You shouldn't be here," Peter began, fumbling for the key to the gate. With trembling hands, he put the key in the lock.

"I was on my way home when this woman attacked me," she wept, her tears bathing his hand.

"Did you see what she looked like?" he asked, ready to pull the chains free when something wet splattered across his face and partially into his mouth. His tongue immediately recognized the taste of blood and he looked up slowly, horrified to find the woman's neck had been sliced open, a fountain of crimson pumping out of the fresh wound and all over him as she fell into a heap on the ground, lifeless. Her murderer was a beautiful woman with dark russet hair that curled in such a way, it resembled coiled snakes. Her eyes were an unearthly blue and her figure was clad in black, the clothing skin-tight, leaving little to the imagination when it came to what lied beneath.

One of her hands held the bar of the gate, as if to hold her up, the other was covered in the murdered woman's blood, terrifying claws dripping with the crimson. She ran her tongue over her bloody fingers in a way that was almost suggestive, animalistic, and he stood there, trapped and mortified, lost in the swirl of her glowing blue eyes.

"So sorry. Did I get that all over your face? Here, allow me" she said, and she reached through the bars of the gate and with a single finger lapped up some of the blood only to bring it back to her mouth. Peter stood, frozen in place, paralyzed either by fear or some otherworldly force that had rendered him unable to move. "What's your name, soldier?" she asked him, still holding his gaze. The sound of her voice made him lightheaded, as if he was under some kind of spell. He knew she was the enemy – whoever she was – but he had this sudden unexplainable need to please his mistress. The word felt foreign and wrong to him, but a darker, unexplored part of him liked the sound of it.

"Peter," he said.

"How poetic – Peter will open his gates to the damned after all," she mused and he could hear laughter coming from the shadows behind her. "Open the gates, Peter," she purred.

As though his will were not his own, he began to remove the chains from the gate.

"Nicely done," a voice commended her in the darkness. Peter glanced up to see a man donned in black with equally terrifying, yet hypnotically blue eyes. He had stepped from the shadows to stand beside the woman.

"That last scream was rather excellent, wasn't it?" she replied, extending her hand out to the man who took her wrist before running his tongue over the remaining bits of blood, lapping them up sensually as they looked into one another's eyes. This action appeared to please the woman and Peter heard her purr like some kind of cat as her body leaned in closer to the man. He could feel the sexual tension between the two and though every instinct told him it was sin, he found it captivating, unable to look away as the two spoke to one another in hushed tones, in a language he did not recognize, but the sound of it rolling off their tongues was deeply sensual. The two kissed passionately, seemingly unaware that Peter had finished opening the gates.

Another man and woman suddenly appeared out of the shadows. The two seemed to be related – with similar facial features and hair that was as red as fire, their eyes older than any other Peter had ever seen.

"Enough, you two," the redheaded woman teased. "Save it for later."

"Yes. As entertaining as it is to watch you ravish Afina's pretty mouth, I'm ready to kick some holy Order ass," the other replied, revealing a pair of deadly looking scimitars. The blades were decorated in what appeared to be ancient Celtic symbols and some other unrecognizable writing. Peter soon noticed a large group of vampires emerging from the shadows and that fear from before grew exponentially.

He recognized Afina's name and realized who she was and who the others were. Although something was still preventing him from moving, he was more consciously aware of the situation, and he swallowed hard.

"Very well, Reunan," the dark one said. This one had to be Dracula. "You may have the first kill."

Peter suddenly realized that the Count was motioning to him. His mind fought with the unknown force that was keeping him cemented to the ground as the one called Reunan pushed the gates open.

"At least let him run, Afina," he insisted, raising his swords.

Peter felt Afina leave his head and the second she was gone, he turned to run. He managed to get in three steps before Reunan appeared in front of him and the last conscious thought he had was of the split second of pain he felt when the blade of one of the swords collided with his neck.

Carl and his men watched in horror as Peter's head slumped off his shoulders, falling to the ground in a bloody heap.

"Hold your ground, men," Carl encouraged. "If we are meant to meet our maker, then make sure you send as many demons back to Hell as you can."

They watched as Reunan picked up Peter's disembodied head before punting it across the piazza with a powerful kick. It flew up into the night sky before landing almost perfectly on the spear of one of the soldiers. The vampires laughed at the display until Dracula commanded them to attack. They swarmed in through the gates like a flood of cockroaches, some running, others crawling on the columns that led to the basilica, and the rest taking to flight.

Carl made eye contact with Count Dracula for several long moments and the six months of nightmares he had had after Transylvania suddenly came flooding back – dreams of being tortured by Dracula, of Van Helsing as a werewolf, of Anna dying, of the vampire pygmy bats, of Dracula's brides and their horrifying beauty. But this – this was even worse than any dream his subconscious could have concocted. He watched as Afina appeared beside the Count, taking the monster's face in her hands and pulling him into a passionate kiss before baring her fangs and joining the crowd of vampires that were rapidly descending upon them.

So the rumors had been true, he thought to himself. Afina truly had turned to the other side. As Carl shouted the order to attack, he couldn't help but keep an eye out for her as he fought for his life. He watched as she took on easily four or six men at a time, immune to all of their specially created devices, even though many of the other vampires suffered the attacks. She was impenetrable, with just her claws she was a force to be reckoned with, but with a sword – witnessing what kind of killing machine she had become was almost awe-inspiring to the friar. Although she was slaughtering some of his closest friends, she was truly a wonder to behold. The ultimate weapon.

After a while he was forced to pry his eyes away from the woman, as he and his men were quickly becoming overrun, giving Dracula and Afina the perfect opportunity to slip into the basilica. Carl shouted to one of his soldiers to tell Cardinal Jinette that the line had been breached, but the soldier never had the chance to deliver the message. Carl watched in horror as Adnraste, Reunan's twin sister, tore the man's heart from his chest.

Knowing they didn't stand a chance, all fear seemed to leave Carl as he embraced his fate, running towards his recently murdered comrade before thrusting a specially devised blade straight into Adnraste's heart. Before she could offer a counter-attack, Carl pulled a vial out of his cloak pocket, revealing a purplish liquid. He broke the vial over Adnraste's teeth and the liquid, when it made contact with the air, exploded into a blinding light that erupted in her body until she exploded into ash with a violent scream. The heat of the light burned the right-side of Carl's face, singeing his hair and the pain was excruciating.

Adnraste's destruction caught everyone's attention and the vampires stood there in silent disbelief as her remains floated in the air around them like a dust cloud.

Reunan's cries of anguish and fury fell on deaf ears as Carl dramatically turned with his sword in hand, his eyes locked on the enraged vampire, slaying what other vampires he could as the ancient one barreled his way through the carnage, desperate to annihilate the friar who had just destroyed his sister.

…

Vigdís quickly caught up with Afina and Dracula as they made their way through the church, slicing through anyone that got in their way with relative ease as Afina led them to the ornate confessional. As she pulled the lever that revealed the secret stair, Vigdís couldn't help but smirk. "Am I the only one that finds it mildly amusing that the secret entrance to the Order's hidden lair is in a confessional?"

Dracula smirked.

"I'm definitely not surprised."

"Come. Dragoş should be down there by now," Afina said, motioning for them and a couple other vampires to follow. She was right. At the bottom of the stair it looked like a warzone. It was difficult to tell who was winning. Although the vampires had the advantage of immortality, the Order had been prepared and had cooked up several surprises for them – like sunlight bombs, ultra-violet liquid that caused violent explosions when it came in contact with the air, silver-stakes soaked in holy water and werewolf venom, gas-propelled crossbows, and large vats of silver nitrate.

The small company immediately noticed Dragoş in the center of the battle, wielding a frighteningly barbaric looking blade in one hand and what appeared to be the leg of a table in the other. His wife, Raynora, was disintegrating away just a few feet before him, one of the Order's deadly devices in her chest. The room reeked of blood and ash.

Vigdís immediately ran to his aid, and with one strong swipe of her hand, Cardinal Jinette's head came flying off before the holy man could lay a finishing blow. Afina felt her heart break as she watched her strong uncle fall to his knees in anguish before the pile of ash that had been her aunt. As Vigdís struggled to fight off the attackers, Dragoş let out an unearthly cry, Raynora's ash falling between his fingers. The Count quickly ran to Vigdís' aid, as she was on the verge of being overcome by members of the Order and Afina couldn't help but watch in agony at the carnage before her. She was heartbroken for her uncle's loss, and for the undoubtable loss they had already experienced.

She felt suddenly violent and bloodthirsty – and that's when she noticed Van Helsing at the other end of the room. He and Lucian were in the midst of an intense duel and Lucian was clearly on the losing end. The hunter had cornered her friend and before she could even take a step forward to come to his aid, Van Helsing had run a stake through Lucian's heart. She couldn't explain why, but she could feel his loss as he dissolved into dust. Tears burned in her eyes as she made her way down the rest of the stairs, grabbing a handsome blade that had fallen near a blazing fire, unfazed by the searing heat on her skin as she made her way through the massacre. Van Helsing's eyes soon met hers and a mutual understanding passed between them.

She would finish this, she swore silently to herself.

She followed him silently through the carnage and soon found him in an empty room. It was circular in shape with high walls that easily went a hundred feet up into the air. The ceiling appeared to be made of glass and the light of the full moon could be seen above, pouring into the darkness. Van Helsing stood, bathed in that moonlight, his sword raised in a defensive position.

"I don't want to kill you, Afina," he said immediately.

"Then you never should have sent me to Transylvania," she replied, shutting the door behind her, blocking out the sounds of war just outside the walls.

"That wasn't my decision."

"I don't recall you making any protestations when Jinette volunteered me."

"I didn't know he would turn you into a vampire, Afina."

Afina shrieked violently and threw the sword viciously in his direction and he barely managed to keep it from grazing his face.

"STOP LYING TO ME!" she screamed, fangs bared and face contorted in a demon's rage. The rapid and sudden loss of her newfound family was still fresh and she could feel the tears burning in her eyes at just the thought of losing another member. Or worse – all of them, if things continued on like this. "Why did you send me there?" she demanded. "TELL ME!"

"You know why," he answered.

"No I DON'T!" she shouted and she clutched her head in agony as an intense pain shot up her spine and into her skull. There was another memory – on the fringes of her mind and try as she might to reach it, she couldn't. Something was blocking it. "I can't remember, Gabriel… why can't I remember?"

Afina fell to her knees, still holding her head as images flashed before her eyes.

"You weren't supposed to lose your memories when he turned you," Van Helsing explained. "But your death and your transition were so traumatizing; and your second-nature, the influence of your father was so strong, your mind couldn't take it." She could hear him moving closer to her, cautiously, but steadily. He was kneeling in front of her now, his sword on the ground beside him and he carefully reached out to touch her.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered sincerely. "You weren't supposed to forget. What the Order did to you was supposed to keep you from falling under his spell. It failed."

She looked up at him in confusion and disbelief.

"What did you do to me?" she demanded in dangerous tones. "_What have you done_?"


	17. Heaven Has Died

**Chapter 17: Heaven Has Died**

Afina stared at Van Helsing with a look of utter betrayal etched across her features. Silent tears of horror were streaming down her face in rapid succession and when he went to touch her, she violently smacked his hand away.

"Afina, I'm so sorry, but it had to be done," he explained. "It was the only way."

"Defend yourself," she snapped, standing suddenly and she picked up her sword.

"Afina, please."

"I said DEFEND YOURSELF!" she shouted, her voice echoing off the high walls. He picked up his blade, albeit unwillingly.

"I don't want to fight you."

"Too late."

She lunged and he barely managed to block her attack. He thrust his blade toward her face and she managed to move her head out of the way just in time before taking another stab at his chest. The two moved with rapid precision, their blades swinging violently before clashing with the other in another successful blocked attack, until Afina managed to kick him back against the wall with an enraged scream. She thrust her blade once more, this time for his head, and he moved out of the way, the blade nicking his ear just as he moved away from the wall.

There were several more powerful swings, one that sent Afina's sword flying out of her hands and skidding loudly across the stone floor. Ducking out of the way of another attack, Afina managed to grab a nearby spear and she smacked him upside the head with it, the spearhead creating a cut along the side of his face, the blow sending him onto his back. He managed to get on his knees before she attacked again, blocking the spear with his sword before she kneed him in the face and he rolled back a couple of times.

She allowed him to get up, giving her time to get to her sword just as he came rushing towards her. As she swung her blade to block him, he moved in close, head-butting her in the face and she fell onto her back. With a roar, he went to stab, but she managed to kick him in the head and then kicked his sword out of his hand, giving her just enough time to get back on her feet, this time with his weapon in her hand.

She studied the blade in her hand as Van Helsing struggled to his feet, blood oozing out of his broken nose. The weapon was beautiful – with a golden hilt and the blade inscribed in a language she recognized but could not read. But there was one thing she did recognize on the blade – Gabriel's name, or more specifically, the name of the archangel Gabriel. She quickly glanced over at her arm that he had managed to cut with the blade and noticed that the wound had not healed.

This was no ordinary blade.

"Is this the weapon?" she asked him, unable to mask the fear she suddenly felt in her heart. "The weapon that killed my father?"

"No. This is," he explained, slightly breathless, revealing a knife that had been holstered on his waist. It was just as beautiful as the blade in her hand, but only seven-inches in length. He held it up for her to see. "It's the tongue of the angels," he continued. "There's no true translation for it in the common tongue, but the gist of it is something along the lines of _the wrath of God_."

"Did you do it? Were you the on that killed my father?"

"Yes."

He picked up her fallen blade and the two began to fight once again, but this time, Afina had to keep track of not just one blade, but two.

Although Van Helsing was losing decent amounts of blood in his face alone, his blows appeared to be getting stronger, as if his adrenaline had just kicked in or some other force was helping him. He managed to knock his blade out of her hand and in her moment of confusion after taking a strong hit to the head, Van Helsing had his angelic sword in his hands once again. He dropped Afina's blade – which was meager by comparison – onto the ground and pushed it towards her with his foot and she picked it up weakly, defending herself.

After a while, Afina had managed to take several nasty blows by the hunter's angelic blade and the wounds refused to heal. But everything he gave, she gave back at least twice over and it was a miracle Van Helsing was still standing. With a quick maneuver, Van Helsing managed to get behind her and he sliced at her back. She let out a cry of pain and fell forward, desperately trying to clutch at her spine as if doing so would numb the pain.

Van Helsing looked exhausted as he leaned forward, his hands resting on his knees, gasping for air and spitting blood out of his mouth, watching in wonder as Afina struggled to push herself to her feet. Before she could get off her knees, he swung his sword hard and she blocked it just in time before it could strike her and Van Helsing fell to his knees in front of her, clearly as exhausted as she was. He stood again, swinging his sword once again, and she held hers upright as though it were a cross so the point was at the ground and the hilt was by her face.

The force of Van Helsing's blow shattered the blade of her sword.

The hunter, using all that was left of his strength, placed the heavenly dagger on the ground so he could hold his sword with both hands and swing down. At the precise moment, Afina took her broken sword and blocked the attack before reaching for the discarded dagger and thrusting it up into his ribs.

Van Helsing let out a cry of agony as the heavenly blade seared through his flesh, the tip barely missing his heart. Afina could feel his blood all over her hands as the hilt kept the blade from going any further.

The smell overwhelmed her and she pulled her hands back as the hunter fell onto his back, coughing up blood and gasping for air.

He noticed the tears in her eyes as she knelt beside him.

"You gave me no choice," she said, fighting back her sobs. "Why would you do that? You gave me no choice."

"I know," he replied, his voice full of regret. He turned his head towards the now open door and noticed Dracula crossing the threshold with Dragoş and Vigdís close behind, the woman carrying what Afina instantly recognized as Reunan's scimitars. Her uncle had Carl's head in his hand and her heart fell as she realized the Selkirk line was no more. When Van Helsing noticed Carl's disembodied head, all sense of charity left him when he and Afina's eyes met once more and she realized too late what he was about to do.

He pulled the holy blade out of his lower chest and whispered, "_C__onsummem __eum_." ("Finish him.")

"No…" Afina pleaded in a desperate whisper. "Gabriel, please."

"_C__onsummem __eum__, in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti… per meum sanguinem."_ ("Finish him, in the name of the father, and of the son, and of the holy ghost... through my blood.")_  
_

Afina felt a heat in the center of her chest and opened the top part of her blouse to reveal something glowing beneath the skin. She stared at it in horror before looking back at Van Helsing.

"No…"

"I'm sorry, Afina," he breathed and she watched in terror as the life left his eyes, sealing his holy command with his blood. She could feel her limbs moving without her command as she picked up the holy blade that had been bathed in the hunter's blood.

"Afina, are you…" she heard Dracula say.

"Get out!" she screamed. "Vlad, run!"

"I'm not going anywhere," he insisted. "What's wrong?"

"Vlad, please," she begged him. When she turned to face him, he noticed the tears streaming down her face – but that wasn't all. There was a strange glowing in the center of her chest and it was spreading slowly throughout her body.

"Afina, what's going on?"

"You were right all along," she cried. "I was a trap. I was sent by the Order to kill you."

"Afina, you won't kill me," Dracula assured her warily, his attempt to laugh off the gravity of the situation quickly failing as she began to make her way over to him with labored steps, as if she were a puppet on a string and she was fighting to keep from moving forward – a fight that was in vain. "If you had wanted to, you would have done it long ago."

"Please! You need to leave!"

"Afina, put the knife down."

"I can't!"

"Yes you can."

"You don't understand! He stole me away from my mother and father when I was a baby – a surviving damphir," she explained, motioning to the lifeless Van Helsing behind her. "The Order placed a holy crystal inside of me that can only be activated by an angel and when it's activated, I am a slave to whatever command that angel gives me. When my father found out, he was killed to keep the secret. That's why Gabriel lost his memories – because even with my tainted blood, in the eyes of God, I was still an innocent. His memory loss came long after he fell from grace – it was his final punishment."

"What?!"

"You have to run, please! He's commanded me to kill you."

"I won't leave you like this. We'll figure something out."

"Vlad, _please_." He had never seen her cry before, let alone sob, and it broke his heart. Her uncle moved forward to hold her back and with an action that was completely involuntary, she felt her arm tense and thrust forward and she screamed when the blade ran home into his stomach.

Dracula, Vigdís, and Afina watched in horror as Dragoş began to turn to ash and blood before their eyes. Afina's cries were hysterical and deafening, but they were nothing compared to the screams coming the surrounding rooms and corridors. Vigdís peaked outside to see that many of the other vampires were dying for no reason.

"What is going on?!" Dracula demanded of Vigdís, his eyes still holding Afina's gaze. How rapidly everything was falling apart!

"The Order has blood-linked all of the vampires – each to their elders and the elders to you," Afina explained through her tears. "Oh God, someone make this stop! Dragoş… _Dragoş_!" Her uncle reached up and touched her face sweetly before disappearing completely and she broke out into uncontrollable sobs as she felt her feet move again.

"Vigdís, we have to stop her," Dracula insisted.

"You must leave."

"I can't leave her like this."

"Then you are condemning us all to die!"

"Please… just run," Afina pleaded.

"I will not spend my existence running from you!" he shouted.

"Then kill me! Please!"

"Vladislaus, we need to go," Vigdís implored, but she saw the look in his eyes and she knew that nothing – not heaven nor hell itself could get him out of that room, and although the woman's sense of self-preservation was furious that he would choose the love of a woman over what was left of their species, a small part of her understood. She held her breath when Afina made a stab at the Count, who caught the blade just before it could sink into his chest, and he held it with both hands.

"Vigdís, please… it's over," Dracula said in defeat, desperately struggling against Afina's unnatural strength as she pushed against him. He looked over at her with an apologetic look in his eyes. "Forgive me?"

The woman nodded before running out of the room, leaving the two alone.

Afina was still crying as the heavenly power that was beyond her control continued to push down on the blade as the Count struggled to keep the tip away from his chest.

"I should have made love to you when I had the chance," he teased and she laughed through her tears. "Were you really sent to kill me?"

"Yes."

"Did you know?"

"When I was human, yes, but I did not understand the extent of the situation. I had no idea the Order had put this… this _thing_ in me. You have to believe me."

"I do believe you."

"You must know, I didn't want to kill you," she continued.

"I know."

The two continued to struggle against the blade and Vlad had managed to point it upward and away from his chest, though he wasn't out of danger yet.

"I have a confession to make," she said.

"Is now really the time for that?"

"Well, we are technically beneath a confessional."

He couldn't help but laugh, even though seeing the tears continuing to stream down her face tore him apart.

"That night you came to my room at Agnar's, when you tried to get me to kiss you, you almost had me."

"What was the fault in my technique?"

"When you told me not to say 'no' to you."

"Defiant till the last," he grinned. "My bellator."

The name of endearment made more tears stream down her face and they both watched as the blade started to move in the direction of his chest again. He was strong, but the power of heaven was proving to be stronger.

"Please run. I'd rather live out eternity knowing you're still alive then being forced to spend it alone and without you in this world. Please Vlad… for my sake."

"I can't leave you… not like this."

"Please… "

"I'm not leaving you."

"Vladislaus…"

"Without you, I have nothing to live for."

"You can still live for me – live and run."

"You know I can't do that."

"Would you stop being so damn selfish for once and think about the others? Two bloodlines are dead now and only Vigdís' is left! If you die, then that's the end of our species. It's genocide, Vlad! I won't let you do this."

"We were never meant to live forever, Afina."

"Vlad, I'm begging you."

"I love you, Afina."

"Vlad, please, don't!" She could feel his hold on the blade slackening and its tip moved ever closer to his chest.

He pressed his forehead against hers, a single tear running down his cheek.

"My bellator."

The words were a faint whisper and Afina was left to watch in dismay as he released his hold on the knife and the blade ran home into his heart. Everything went silent for Afina – she couldn't even hear herself screaming, though she could feel her throat going hoarse from the abuse. The Count turned to ash and bone before falling to the floor in a heap.

Afina was beyond inconsolable.

She grabbed the blade that had been the means of Dracula's destruction, suddenly having control over her limbs again, and she jammed it repeatedly into her chest, desperate to die, but was furious to find that she was healing again – even the wounds that Gabriel had inflicted on her were healing.

She shouted her defiance hysterically, ramming the blade into her chest once more, only this time, shoving it to one side so she could stick her hand inside her chest to find the cursed heavenly crystal that had been placed inside of her. She felt no pain as her fingers searched desperately for something that shouldn't have been there in the first place. She found the stone behind her heart, but it had branched out, taking root in her person – it had become a part of her.

Frustrated, she let out another scream as she tried to rip the thing from her chest, not caring that she was losing substantial amounts of blood in the process.

Soon, she was lying on the ground in a pool of her own blood, the knife – no longer enchanted – and her hand still in the chasm of her chest, though try as she might, she couldn't pull the crystal out. She was too weak from her blood loss, and too without hope to bother trying anymore. She prayed that some surviving member of the Order would show up and put her out of her misery, but no such person came.

Instead, she lied there for hours, staring up at the moon through the glass ceiling, never having felt more hollow in her life than she did in that moment. She felt numb from the pain, from the loss of not just her lover, but her entire family.

As she wallowed in her misery, determined to live out the rest of her days in this room, she noticed a bright light above her, brighter than that of the sun. A figure appeared in that light and she watched as it descended until it fell over her. She recognized the face immediately – it was Gabriel, in his archangel glory. There were a hundred things she wanted to say to him, but was too weak and too depressed to even utter a word of protest when he knelt down beside her and removed her hand and the blade from her chest.

As the gaping wound began to heal, he hovered his hand over her chest and she watched as the crystal soon appeared in his palm. He crushed it in his hand until it was a fine powder before standing and then ascending once more, never uttering a word, though his eyes were full of a sorrow she understood too well.

Although a part of her still preferred death over an eternity alone, her sense of self-preservation was still barely intact and she managed to push herself to her feet as the church bells rang the hour of four in the morning. She walked through the massacred corpses in silence, taking tokens of her deceased loved-ones with her as hooded figures emerged from the shadows, cleaning up the carnage. She didn't know who they were, nor did she care as she walked across the Piazza San Pietro before taking off into the skies, flying back to the only place she knew she would be safe to live out her days in solitude, the place where it had all started – Transylvania.

…

The frigid winds felt heavenly on Afina's face as she hiked through the snowy mountains. It would have been considered foolish for any person to do such a thing during one of the worst snowstorms the Carpathians had seen in several years, but she hardly cared. She had no destination in particular and she preferred walking, especially after flying for nearly two days straight just to get back to Transylvania. What few clothes she had left were soaked. She had given her boots and jacket to a gypsy caravan at the base of the mountain in exchange for a feeding – in which she successfully managed not to kill the victim in question.

The only thing that was really covering her was her pants. Her blouse had been completely destroyed back in Rome and the bodice she was wearing barely covered her, thanks to the nice tear in the front. But the cold couldn't have been more inviting. It distracted her from the dull, numbing pain in the center of her chest.

She had been walking for nearly two weeks now, starving and not really aware of where her feet were taking her until she noticed an unmarked trail off of the Borgo pass. Recalling the words of the Count and knowing that the trail would eventually lead to his castle, she began to head up the dangerously narrow and winding path, nearly falling on several occasions due to the heavy snow covering up the already unstable footing.

The higher up she climbed, the more the wind in the trees sounded like whispers, and there were several occasions when she could have sworn she heard someone say her name.

After at least three hours, the path appeared to level out and it led to the edge of a cliff which looked out over several miles of unmapped peaks and in the center of those peaks was Castle Dracula. It was just as he had described it – a fortress of black stone and ice. The scale of the castle was enormous, with spires and battlements that dwarfed anything she had ever seen before in her life. The foundations of the fortress appeared to be rooted in the living mountain, the castle's three main towers sprouting from the black rock as if the entire structure had been formed from the stone rather than built. The two bridges that connected the towers high up were the only clear signs that this monstrosity was the work of man and not spewed up by the dark forces of nature. The edifice was both impressive and forbidding, radiating ominous power.

She recognized that power and found solace in it as the monument seemed to call out to her – as if Dracula was calling out to her. She willingly succumbed to the pull of the fortress and felt herself shift into her hell-beast form so she could fly across the gorge below, landing in the dark and empty foyer of the castle. The massive foyer was made up of high walls, pillars, and ceilings – as though it had been designed for a creature not bound by gravity. The interior appeared to resemble that of the exterior – very ominous and black, but the deeper she found herself in the fortress, the more familiar it seemed to become. She notice some similar touches to some of the rooms that Vilkova had had, though this place seemed much more dark and fantastical than his "summer" palace had been.

She wandered the halls aimlessly for some time until she stumbled upon what appeared to be a crypt. Upon her entrance, the torches lit of their own volition, as the rest of the fortress had done. There was a large mirror on the far side of the room and in the center was an empty tomb made entirely of stone and ice. The ice melted away at the touch and she noted Dracula's name carved into the rock.

So this is where he had slept, she thought idly to herself.

The tomb was almost big enough for two persons and she climbed inside, imagining what it would be like to have him lying beside her. As she closed her eyes, she could feel the ice growing over her, encasing her in the tomb and she let it, strangely comforted by its hold.

For the first time in days, Afina allowed herself to rest and she swore that she would stay in this place, in this icy prison, until judgment day. She had nothing else to live for and possessed no desire to do anything else – at least for the present. Perhaps someday, when she had allowed herself to heal would she venture forth from those snow covered peaks.

But not this day.

The gypsies of the mountains would tell stories for years to come of the ice queen who would venture down from her dark fortress to drink the blood of the living – usually the blood of lovers, as if mourning what she had lost - what she had never had, and what she would never have in all of her days to come.

* * *

**Musical Influences:**

_Undying__ Love, _by Two Steps From Hell, "Invincible"

_**Chapter 16:**  
_[1]_ The Crawl_, by Marco Beltrami, "Underworld: Evolution" score_ *  
_[2]_ Redemption_, by Zack Hemsey, "The Way"  
[3]_ Light and Shadow_, Vangelis, "1492 – Conquest of Paradise"  
[4]_ Bernini's Angels_, by Kerry Muzzey, "Trailer Music 2"

_**Chapter 17: **  
_[1]_ The Queen is Dead_, by Richard Gibbs, "Queen of the Damned" score  
[2] _The Archangel_, by City of the Fallen, "Divinus"  
[3] _Darkest Hour_, by City of the Fallen, "Divinus"  
[4] _Fire and Ice_, by Within Temptation, "The Unforgiving"  
[5] _Forgiven_, by City of the Fallen, "Divinus"  
[6] _Stairway To The Skies_, by Within Temptation, "The Unforgiving"

**[ * ] not included in YouTube playlist**

**...**

**And so concludes __****_la douleur exquise._**

**I never could have imagined how difficult it would be to write this! I had no idea how truly rusty I was, but I'm glad I was at least able to complete a story - even if it isn't my best work. I feel accomplished, nonetheless. I've always wanted to write a tragedy, but I think with this one, especially with these last two chapters, I kind of jumped the shark. Oh well. It's done and I can FINALLY move on to my new story that I've been dying to write for over a month now. **

**So many glorious ideas spinning around in my head.  
**

**My secret board on Pinterest for my new story has so many pins! But I'll share more about that after the Epilogue (yes, there's an epilogue to this story - I'm not THAT cruel to just leave the story as is. Unless you prefer this ending, then by all means, ignore the epilogue). I'll be posting it some time next week (or maybe at the end of this week, depending on the responses I get?). **

**But for now, a HUGE thanks to those who have stuck with this story from it's beginning. Especially to those that favorited, followed, and reviewed! **

**Until next week! **


	18. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

She had lost count of the days and though a part of her knew it had been years since that fateful day, the pain was still felt fresh when she awoke that evening to the familiar darkness. The ice melted around her into nothingness, leaving her lying in the stone tomb for several long minutes as she stared blankly up at the ceiling. She couldn't keep living like this, she thought to herself. Although wallowing in her sense of hopelessness had an exquisite kind of beauty to it, she knew this had to stop. The gypsies were talking about her, though part of her wondered why she cared so much.

It wasn't her fault that her last victims had been couples! She hadn't exactly planned it out that way. It had just… happened. They were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Serves them right for gallivanting off into the woods, she mused, sitting up slowing, her arms resting on the walls of the sarcophagus.

This wasn't the first time she had had the notion to go out and do something with her eternity. Granted, it would have been much easier if she had some friends or even acquaintances, but all of them were dead and the reminder was stark and unforgiving. She was about to give up the idea and sleep for another month or so when she suddenly noticed a faint chanting.

It was a wonder she could hear it at all – it was so faint, as if someone had whispered it on the other side of the castle, but she heard it and she honed in on it with her vampire senses, desperate to make sure that this wasn't some kind of sick trick of the mind or another cruel dream her subconscious had concocted – wouldn't have been the first time.

Yes – it was still there. Faint, but there.

She could also hear the sound of seven distinct heart-beats. Wondering how on earth seven humans managed to find their way into the castle, Afina lifted herself out of the sarcophagus and was about to exit the room when she noticed a large goblet situated on a small table beside the door that had not been there before. The goblet was filled with warm blood, at least twenty ounces worth. Her self-inflicted solitary confinement had made her rather wreckless, so she drank the blood without question before exiting from the room, following the sound of the mysterious chanting.

She was glad she had drunk the blood, not really caring who had left it. It had sated her hunger and sharpened her senses. She could hear the heartbeats more distinctly now. Most of them were racing as the chanting continued and then a glass-shattering scream broke out, echoing through the castle and the chanting stopped, soon followed by several screams of terror and an unearthly roar.

Afina raced through the winding stairs and halls of the castle, suddenly grateful that she had made herself familiar with every square-inch of the place. The only thing that made it difficult to discover the origin of the noise were the echoes that floated down the halls.

She suddenly realized that three of the heartbeats had stopped.

Whatever those seven had awoken, it wasn't friendly.

A fourth heart-beat slowed and Afina ran faster. The fifth soon stopped and then the smell of blood hit her like a wall. The smell was so powerful, so intense, she felt the she-wolf in her awaken – something she hadn't felt in years. It yawned, stretched, and then clawed at her insides, that metallic aroma entangling her senses as she flew up the final flight of stairs just as the sixth heartbeat stopped, leaving one more.

She pushed open a pair of double doors that led to a throne-room of sorts and found six women strewn about the place with very little blood to be seen, though the air reeked of it. In the center of the room was a pentagram which had been drawn with white sand, a black candle on each spire of the star. On the edge of the ritualistic symbol was a velvet pouch which appeared to have held ash or something just as soft and powdery. Either these women had been summoning a creature from beyond this earthly plain or they had just successfully resurrected…

Afina couldn't even finish the thought, for the final heart in the room had ceased to beat, and yet, the sound of slurping could still be heard. Crouched before a stone throne was a man, stark naked with long black hair and he appeared to be feeding off of the neck of last female. In fact, now that Afina had actually taken the time to look around, all of the other women had had their throats torn out.

She couldn't explain why, but she suddenly felt horribly afraid of the man that was drinking the dead woman's blood – not because she feared for her life, but because she was terrified that this was in fact a dream, that her bitch of a subconscious was going to mess with her again.

But it couldn't be a dream, her mind insisted as the man finished drinking. He lifted his head to look at her, his face and the ends of his long, dark hair covered in blood. She knew the eyes immediately and in that moment, it was as if the earth had stopped spinning. He stood slowly before her.

"Vlad?"

The single syllable was uttered with both reverence and disbelief.

He didn't say anything and it unnerved her slightly. Was this a dream? This had to be a dream. Of course, this was the first time she had dreamt of him being resurrected by means of the occult and standing before her stark naked in all his glory with his face covered in blood. Her imagination had left out those particular details in the past. But… it couldn't be!

She watched as he wiped the crimson from his face before licking it off the back of his hand. They stared at each other for several long moments, as if it was taking him several minutes to remember who she was. When the recognition came, she noticed it immediately in his eyes – and in his body – and she was so stunned and so relieved, she didn't know how to react.

He smiled that oh so familiar smile of his, that deliciously wicked grin, and it sent a long-forgotten wave of warmth through her body.

"Hello, my bellator."

* * *

**So, I'm not going to lie, I almost wrote more to this epilogue – to be more specific, I almost wrote out the official consummation of Afina and Dracula's relationship, but I decided against it as I really don't think I could do it justice. I'll just leave that glorious interlude to everyone's imagination.**

**But that's it! That's the official end of the story! - well, for now, anyways. Because one must ask, what's next? What year are they living in? Is Dracula entirely himself upon his return? What is the world like without the knights of the Holy Order around? So many questions!  
**

**A conversation for another time, I think. **

**...**

**I know this is going to be rather sappy and somewhat exploitative of me, but I really wanted to take a moment to thank all of those who favorited and reviewed this story:**

**Favoriters: **ForeverACharmedOne, The Hooded Falcon, The-Dark-Love-Writer, cawo114, FallinAngelGirl, Cosmopolitan Countess, ShadowMemory, ZabuzasGirl, Shopaholic-Pixxie, wolfismyhero, TT012, Shades-Soul, loulouflowerpower, HeavenlyCondemned, Nyx-Arae, ks vamp girl, Kiriari, DeviousGina123, BeautifulCataleya, TheRYU, BannaRamma132, KaiaUchiha1, MissVD,** and **lorena123**.**

**Reviewers: **ForeverACharmedOne, MissVD, invisible reader, Riona Winters, Cosmopolitan Countess, ZabuzasGirl, Danielle, Kalika Barlow, Anna, Trina C, Teddy, FallinAngelGirl, Clary Martin, wolfismyhero, loulouflowerpower, "Guest", Shopaholic-Pixxie, DeviousGina123, BeautifulCataleya, cawo114,** and **KaiaUchiha1**.**

**Seriously, you guys, you are amazing. You are the reason why this story happened and was completed in the first place. I can't thank you all enough for the positive commentary and attention – and an even bigger thanks is owed to **invisible reader** and **Cosmopolitan Countess** for reviewing every single chapter. You two are AMAZING.**

**...**

**So the next story that I have planned is still in the early plotting stages. I'm presently fleshing out my major characters and their personalities, and have a general idea of where I want the story to go. I'm hoping to start writing in the next couple of weeks but we'll see how that goes. If you're interested in any updates - story-wise or personal - feel free to follow me on Twitter. Most of my updates right now are Supernatural related - I've been trying to watch all 8 seasons before season 9 starts, but seeing as how I'm a season and a half away from the finish line and season 9 starts tomorrow, I may not catch up until the end of the week. So yeah - that's the extent of my Twitter feed. If you don't want to follow me, feel free to add me to your "Alerts" so if/when I do start posting again, you'll receive an email notification. **

**Well my lovelies, I wish you all the best! Many thanks again for your support in this endeavor. **

**Until next time,  
T**


End file.
